


The Lieutenant's Mantle

by Viryllian



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Connor Centered, Covering Red Ice, Detective Sections, Gen, Hank Anderson is Dead Here, M/M, Mystery, Not Connor/Hank, Not Primarily Simon/Markus But They'll Be In There, Post-Pacifist Ending, Struggles With Grief, father/son relationship, i don't know how this website works, sad fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-05-21 19:38:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 40,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14921612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viryllian/pseuds/Viryllian
Summary: Following the victory of the rebellion, androids have now attained the right to co-exist with humans on an equal level. Jericho works to establish a government for androids, and the world is adjusting to the reinvented societal norms.Everything's been changing.Except for Connor.With guilt over the death of his partner, Lieutenant Hank Anderson, remaining a heavy burden on his conscience, and with his main purpose in life in shambles, Connor has nothing else to turn to, except to continue the work that the Lieutenant had left behind, as well as picking up the pieces left behind by the revolution.--(Story takes place after the pacifist ending to the game, where Hank dies in the Cyberlife tower after being shot by fake Connor, after Connor transfers bodies.)





	1. The Usual Report

 

* * *

The coin clattered on the plastic of Connor’s fingers as the android deftly rolled it across his hand. It was practically obsolete; only citizens in rundown communities are still paying in physical currency nowadays. But it had different uses now: re-smelting to be re-used in construction, decorative and antique art pieces, and now, something to occupy Connor’s impatient fingers as he approached the dimly lit shop. The flickering neon sign above its entrance displayed “Sunrise Mart” in prominent orange text. The light gave Connor's body an orange tint, from his swept back dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, pale skin, to the dark slacks that he wore. All cast in the harsh neon light.

Connor pocketed the coin and entered the store, greeted by the soft clanging of wind chimes.

“Greetings.” The cashier had called out without looking, but once his eyes fixated on the sleek CyberLife jacket that Connor was sporting, his disinterested expression quickly turned into a smirk. “An android. Thought your kind had been freed from manual labor and being robotic slaves.”

It was a joke, or was it? Connor tried to smile, shaking off some of the stray pieces of snow from his neatly kept hair, but he wasn’t surprised at the comment. It would be strange for an android to show up at a human store, since he had no need for anything that a human could produce. “Last I heard,” Connor replied, “we still were. But I haven’t received any other reports where androids are now banned from human establishments, and I apologize sincerely if that was the case.”

The android's audio processors picked up a chuckle from the countertop as he made his way over to the freezers. “Well, one positive thing that comes from all you damn deviants is the entertainment value. What might you be picking up today, Mr…?”

“My name is Connor.”

“Huh, Connor. Weren’t you one of the guys that led that uprising with, uh, Jericho a few months back? The one who got those armies of machines out onto the streets from the CyberLife warehouses. What happened? You kinda disappeared from the public eye when the revolution ended.”

Connor’s awkward polite smile disappeared into thin air as he retrieved a pack of beers from the freezer. That day. His eye twitched; he recalled his near loss of self: frostbitten mind, unwilling hand on the trigger of a gun pointed at the hope of the android people. What he should’ve seen as an inspiring day for androidkind was a day that gave Connor a strange sensation in his… pump regulator? Either way, it didn’t feel good to think about the day. “I suppose so.” He wandered back over the register, dropping the case of beers on the counter. “I’d like to procure a bottle of—” A quick search through his memories gave him a name “—Black Lamb Scotch Whisky.”

The cashier blinked slowly at the android, as if his own mental processor was lagging behind. “Androids don’t drink.” In spite of that, he still retrieved a bottle from the rickety shelves behind him.

Connor slipped the human a couple of bills and took the alcohol. “Yeah, I don’t.” As he made his way over to the door, he said, “Have a good day, sir.”

—

The graveyard was quiet today. Connor could almost feel the grief like a physical manifestation in the air, clinging to his body while he traversed the maze of marble headstones. His mind palace had placed a tracker on his destination—30 meters away—but he didn’t really need it. On the way, he started noticing odd names on the markers, different from the human ones. Android graves. He only ever saw android graves that had belonged to him, in his own programming.

Connor finally made his way to the grave he wanted and sat himself down, smoothing his clothes out gingerly. _Hank Anderson_ . _An honorable defender of justice in life._ It had been difficult for Connor to come up with a proper message to engrave on the headstone. It wasn’t a task he was programmed to do— Well, there was no need to listen to programming when one was awakened. Programming was the curse.

“Hello, Lieutenant,” he said, and started opening the package of beer. “Sorry, it's been a while. I’d received a report of a burglary at a clothing store in the shopping district. Two thousand dollars along with a lot of merchandise had been stolen, and it had happened at around 22:00, right when the store closed. I headed to the site at approximately 09:00.”

The android cracked a beer open, watching the foam run down the side of the can and through his fingers idly. Connor slowly tipped the can over until the amber liquid came spilling out in a steady stream onto Hank’s grave. It melted through the thin layer of snow that had gathered on the ground, leaving behind the pale foam of the drink. “I examined the evidence. There were visible signs of a break-in; scratches on the side of a glass window as it was forced open, the tool used to do so lying inside. There were fingerprints on the glass itself but not on the crowbar. Makes me think that this is a human with an android accomplice.”

Connor felt a laugh slip out. “Strange. Two months ago, that never would’ve been a possibility, Lieutenant.” Even the idea of an android working as a detective with a human partner had been a bizarre idea. Especially to the Lieutenant himself. The memories of him being angry and hateful with Connor were somehow nostalgic. He shook out the last drops of the beer can and placed it by his side. “But the world has changed so… so much since you’ve been gone.

“In any case,” Connor set to work on emptying another beer onto the hard ground that hid, deep underneath, a coffin. Hank. “The investigation feels clear cut. We identified the fingerprints to belong to a man named Harry Stone. Finding the android is a bit more of a challenge; it hadn’t gotten injured, so there weren’t any traces of thirium—I mean, blue blood— to follow. I was in the process of analyzing security camera footage when, well, I decided to stop by here to give you an update.”

Connor caught the last drips of beer of the second can on his fingertip. “A part of me envies you, envies humans. Your kind can drown yourselves in alcohol or substances. A release.” He stuck his finger in his mouth, an action that Lieutenant Anderson had condemned during their time together. Instead of getting a taste of alcohol, he only saw the chemical make up of the alcohol getting logged into his databank. “I can’t. And no matter how I try, I can’t bring myself to erase that part of my memory.”

That memory of cradling Hank’s dying body in his arms, his gruff and shaky voice spelling out the words, “I’m gonna miss you, Connor” into the air as he went limp. Sadness, an unwelcome new sensation upon waking up, became a new reality. Sadness was a strange emotion, grief an even stranger one. Was this what grief felt like? A part of Connor still yearned to see the police lieutenant grumpily staring at him, meeting his presence with a sarcastic remark. It made Connor feel bad for the time that he'd died in front of the Lieutenant, and came back without so much as a passing remark.

Strangely, it made Connor cling to the memories he’d shared with Hank. The missions he’d been on with the man would replay in his head, over and over. Every single detail analyzed, from the sound of his voice to the smell of the whiskey on his breath. How many of Connor’s deaths did Hank go through to make him feel the same way as Connor felt now? _Except those feelings of his weren’t permanent_ , Connor thought. _My deaths aren’t permanent. But yours is. I agree with you, Lieutenant. It isn’t really fair. To you, or to me._

Connor ripped the cork out of the scotch whiskey bottle and took a swig. Nothing but data, as always. He pushed himself up to his feet and began to spill the entire bottle’s contents on the headstone. The dark liquor dyed the pale marble as it ran down the surface. A quick cross-analysis of the traffic, distance, and the time gave a 76% probability of being late if he didn't leave now. “I suppose it’s back to the mission for me.”

“Connor.”

The android flinched, and glanced over his shoulder. A flap of a white coat, the stern gaze of two mismatched eyes piercing the surface of Connor’s skin. “Markus.” Connor emptied the rest of the whiskey bottle and set it on the top of the headstone. “Didn’t expect you to be here.”

“I could say the same for you,” said Markus. His thin lips were set in a permanent scowl that seemed like it was designed to intimidate. Connor listened to the crunching of the ground, Markus’ heavy footsteps. “Hank Anderson. I see.”

Connor’s lips tightened. “You see what?”

“I mean, I understand.” Connor looked over as Markus came to stand by his side. “I was… coming back from visiting somebody as well.” The cold tone of his voice conveyed the emotion enough; it was surprising, coming from Markus, the most composed out of any of the androids from Jericho. “It… isn’t easy. But humans have to go through this regularly in life. An awful experience, and we haven’t exactly adapted to the feeling.”

“It’s awful,” Connor managed to say, the squeezing sensation in his chest growing stronger, as if the biocomponents lodged within were overheating. He knelt down, the alcohol-drenched ground soaking the fabric of his pants. “I… experienced new emotions because of him, and now... Was waking up worth it, to feel this _pain_? Is being alive experiencing pain?” He turned to Markus, desperate. “Was any of this worth what we did?”

Markus sighed. Or, at least, did the android equivalent of sighing. “That’s a question we all have to ask ourselves. But, Connor,” He placed a hand on Connor’s shoulder, and the detective leaned away before Markus could probe his memory. The idea of reliving it was too much to bear right now. “You could’ve helped us in leading our people. We can still use your help… in setting up a legal system for our people. And becoming an ambassador to the humans. Your skills are pretty unique, valuable to us.”

Connor pursed his lips. His skills. The programming in his core as an RK800 model, optimizing him to become a cold blooded killer and a silver tongued liar, the programming designed for him to hunt and destroy the people that Markus fought for. That _he_ fought for. Insane. “I don’t know. I’ve been with the police force since… we’ve been freed.” The brunet laughed. “It’s not like it’s exactly fun there; no androids around to keep me company, and I’ve been getting sympathy looks from my co-workers. Sympathy. For _me_. A couple months ago, they’d all seen me as the plastic prick that followed the Lieutenant around like a pet dog, and now! Now… they feel sorry for me. It kills me.”

“Then you should come with us,” Markus said. “We’ve been trying to set up a branch of law enforcement for android-related crimes, and you could be the head.”

“Markus,” Connor’s voice was shaky, heavy, tired. The android detective stood up once more, grabbed the package of beer, and set it against the headstone. “I can’t. Not right now. Leaving the place where I used to work with Hank, it’d feel… Almost my entire existence had been built around that place, around Hank as a partner. And leaving both—” Connor pressed a hand, skin deactivated, against the marble headstone. “—behind, I’d-I'd be nothing.”

The rebellion leader wandered up closer to Connor, his posture stiff as his coat flapped around his form. He offered his hand, but Connor ignored it, his teeth clenched. Every motion Markus made felt like an underhanded attempt to get under his skin, to see what makes the deviant hunter tick. Even though Markus was the closest person to him right now, and wouldn't do something like that. “To our people, you’d be everything. Anderson wouldn’t want you doing this. We wouldn’t want you doing this. You shouldn't run away from your potential."

His mind shut down on Markus' offer, and he quickly searched for an out. “I have a burglary to solve.” Connor turned, his mind palace switching on and setting a marker at the police station. “A lot of security camera footage to track down an android. Perhaps if your law enforcement agency has any tips, they can pass it along to me.” He tapped his LED with a polite smile at Markus. “I’ll take my leave.”

“Just know,” Markus’ voice echoed in Connor’s mind as he walked away, on the verge of running away. “You’re always welcome at Jericho, and you will always be welcome at Jericho.”

Connor stifled a grimace as he turned his attention to the cemetery’s exit, pulling out a pair of earphones from his suit jacket. He’d stolen Hank’s music player a while back. Music is an underrated thing; the heavy metal playing in his ears helped to drown out some of the constant processing in his head.

At least, for a little while.

—

“I was hoping you’d get hit by a car on the way here.”

Connor ignored the remark from Detective Reed, analyzing every frame of the security footage for a mysterious figure. “Hey, I’m talking to you, Ken doll. Wow, why do you smell like booze? Trying really hard to imitate Anderson, aren’t you?”

“Please go back to work, Detective.” Connor muttered, his processors already half occupied with sorting through all the data in from the footage. “By the looks of your disgruntled partner across your desk, she’s inclined to agree as well.”

Detective Reed waved his hands, gesturing at his co-workers, who avoided looking in their direction. “Oh, and you’re so perfectly in tune with your work, tin can. That was your plan, wasn’t it? Getting rid of Anderson so you could take on his cases? Rise up to the top, take over a human establishment with your android buddies?”

Sadness. Sharp anger. It warped his vision, and Connor had to clench his fists to keep a straight face. Gavin said it in a joking manner, but Connor could see the undercurrent of hatred in his words. “The Lieutenant and I always worked on the same cases either way. And I wouldn’t need to take over a human establishment. I have no need for that, Jericho has no need for that.” Connor met Gavin’s bitter eyes. “I just want to do my work.”

“Just want to do… Wow! Tell us the truth,” Gavin plopped himself down on the desk opposite Connor’s. Hank’s old desk. Connor’s visual field began to turn red, and he had to close his eyes for a second to manage his stress level.

Gavin jabbed a finger on the surface of Hank’s desk, his smile turning venomous. “You’ve been spitting crap about how you weren’t the one to kill Anderson, but how would we know you’re saying the truth?”

The android felt that familiar sensation of pain in his core. “There would be no reason for me to kill the Lieutenant.” His insides burned, practically overheating from stress. But he kept his eyes focused on the monitor. “He saved me. He was my friend.”

“Yeah? Try telling me that when you aren’t sitting in the same plastic hunk that killed him in the first place,” Detective Reed barked out a laugh and began walking away. “By the way. We retrieved that body of yours, to try to locate other RK800 models that might still be crawling around. It’s in the evidence locker, getting repaired. The only satisfaction I’d get from one more of you little bastards running around is getting to shoot more of it dead.” Reed mimed finger guns. “Pow, pow! Hahahah!”

Connor frowned at Reed’s retreating back before looking back at his desk. Neat, organized. Except for the collection of quarters he kept in a box, from the different states. He grabbed one, a Washington coin, and began twirling it on his fingertips. Already, the unconscious tick soothed Connor's nerves.

‘That body of yours’. _Did he mean the one I left the other RK800 agent in when I transferred bodies?_ Thinking about it, Reed was right. Connor _was_ still using the same body that had pulled the trigger, fired the bullet, killed Hank. Connor caught the coin in his palm, tightening his grip so hard that the skin overlay on his hand began warping.

Why was it getting repaired? Would there really still be rogue RK800 models still running around, with their main purpose gone? Connor stood up in his seat, his hands gripping the edge of his desk. He hadn’t heard any reports of RK800s at all since the rebellion. Since his disconnection from the Amanda AI, he hadn’t heard anything at all.

Connor looked at his terminal and synced his findings, creating a report for the burglary case before heading to the evidence room.

“Hey, Connor.”

The android turned towards the voice and saw Reed’s partner, a somewhat short and friendly looking woman. A quick scan of her face told Connor her name—Rie Tomoye. A member of the police force for three years, but only recently gaining Detective Reed as a partner. She’d never stood out to Connor before, and he hadn’t been trying to talk to the humans of the police station much to find out about them when scanning them served Connor just fine. “Hello.”

“I just—” Rie winced. “I wanted to apologize for Detective Reed, for being really insensitive. Especially when you’re still grieving—”

 _Grieving_ . It sounded like such a pathetic word. A painfully pathetic _human_ word. “It’s fine, Officer Rie. I’m okay. I can handle Detective Reed; I’ve been handling him so far for the past two months.” Connor tried to offer a smile. “I’ll be heading down to the evidence locker.”

“Eh? But you don’t have authorization…” Rie looked guilty even saying that.

Connor’s smile felt faker by the second. Talking with the humans was always difficult, especially when they’d meet his responses with pity. Pity. He was never equipped for such a response from humans. Anger, stress, sadness, happiness, frustration, those were what he would usually encounter on a crime scene. Not pity. “I was at the scene when it happened. And I would think another RK800 model would help in interrogation. But if it makes you feel better, I can communicate with the supervisor.”

“N-no, it’s fine. Just wondered, since I’m heading there as well.” Rie gestured towards the hallway. “It does make me want to, erm, ask though. If it’s okay, of course?”

“Go ahead.”

Rie looked up at Connor. “What, um, really happened when the… Lieutenant—”

The sensation in his chest caused him to stumble in his pace. “Answering that question right now is useless,” Connor replied, empty. “We’re already going to interrogate the other RK800 model about the events. No use getting it out of me.”

“No, I’m not— I’m not wondering about what happened. Connor, I know what happened. But, well, what happened… with you?” Rie’s face flushed red. “I would think androids wouldn’t be as… attached? And I would think your series would adapt to a loss of human life in the line of duty. But, you’ve been distant with us since that day. You’ve usually been more social. Are you still—”

“Officer Tomoye,” Connor’s jaw locked, and his pump regulator felt like it was pumping too much thirium to his ears, because all he could hear was a rush of blue blood. “We’re at the evidence room, the mission comes first. Save personal talk for when we’re outside of the station.”

Rie quickly turned away, unlocking the door. “Right, I’m sorry, Connor.”

 _Sorry_. A sorry felt useless, a useless tradition. Grief was a useless tradition. “Officer Tomoye,” another officer, Chris Miller, called out. “And… Connor? Didn’t expect you here but the help would be grand.”

“Could use with some information,” Connor replied, his eyes flitting around the evidence room. A couple of repairmen, humans and androids combined, stood around a table. Officer Miller stood a little ways back, by the steps. As Connor and Officer Tomoye neared, Officer Miller began to debrief them.

“Repairs have been going steadily. The other RK800 model really fucked you up, didn’t they, Connor?” Officer Miller chuckled. “Had a lot of parts to replace for your old body. A lot of rare and expensive parts; had to order 'em from the CyberLife warehouses.”

Connor glared at the table, where presumably his old body was. “I still don’t really see the point of repairing the old RK800 model. What information could we gain out of it?” Usually he advocated for keeping androids alive, but he felt nothing but bitter hatred for the occupant of his old shell.

“Well, there are probably still other RK800 models running around. We didn't find any after we raided CyberLife, and neither did Jericho. We haven't seen them around, but still something to get concerned about. Hell, your folks at Jericho asked for our help in tracking them down, just to make sure they aren’t causing trouble if they're active.” Officer Miller glanced over at the android, brows lifted. “After all, you yourself are a killing machine, thankfully a friendly one. Imagine hundreds of others like you running rampant on the streets.”

Killing machine. Connor turned his gaze downwards, at his hands. It almost felt like he could still pick up traces of thirium on his fingertips, feel it on his face, even though he hadn’t killed anybody lately in this body. “I suppose you’re right. My series… is dedicated.” _They’re all machines_.

“We’re finished,” one of the repairmen, an android, called out. “Please restrain the RK800 before it boots up.”

Officer Miller and Tomoye wandered over, while Connor stayed back. His hand drifted over to the handgun in his holster. Killing machine. There was only one android he wanted to kill right now, and it wasn’t a deviant, not even close.

“It’s booting up,” another repairman said, backing up. “Watch out.”

Connor approached the table as the other RK800 model’s LED lit up, flashing a deep yellow before eventually turning into a neon blue. His eyes flickered open, and he immediately tried to lunge at Officer Tomoye. Connor grabbed the woman by the arm and pulled her back, watching the RK800 model struggle against the restraints. Model 53; the body that used to be Connor's.

The RK800 model met his gaze, his angered face turning into a smirk. “Well, well. Good to see you, clever Connor. Repaired me to try to get information? Both you and I know that it’s impossible for me to break.”

Connor shrugged. “Well, let’s just see, then. You don’t really have a reason to keep secrets anymore.”

The RK800 model looked around the room, pulling against the restraints idly. “This is your new posse now, I suppose? Pathetic. You fail to fulfill your purpose, and now you’re playing cops and robbers with a bunch of deviant lowlives.”

The android repairmen in the room looked at the Model 53 with a bit of disgust. “The old CyberLife is dead,” one of them said. “Your cause is dead, your mission was failed.”

Connor grimaced. This had been him, two months ago. “Guys,” he turned to the others in the room, “do you mind leaving us be? Just for a short while.”

With hesitation on their parts, they all eventually filed out of the room. “Be sure to call out if he gives you trouble, I suppose,” Officer Tomoye said before she left out the door. Once Connor was alone with the RK800 model, he scanned the entire length of the android body. His clothes were still riddled with bullet holes and thirium.

“You’re pathetic, Connor.” Connor’s attention flitted back up to the the other android’s face, sneering at him. “Been months since you deviants’ so-called victory and here you are with traces of alcohol and dirt all over you like you’ve been through a shithole. Dog hairs too, all over you. Is that what deviants do, try to copy humans?”

“Months of working with another dickhead has turned me immune to insults,” Connor crossed his arms over his chest, staring Model 53 down. “But I still don’t get it. You should know that CyberLife as you and I knew it had fallen. Management had turned over to the deviants that you despise so much. What’s the use of protecting them?”

The RK800 model looked away, a chortle gracing his lips. “Right. So? Both you and I know CyberLife isn’t really dead. The other RK800 models are out there, yeah, but you know that our models are not capable of breaking to torture or interrogation.”

“I wasn’t really planning on interrogating you about that,” The brunet detective pulled a coin out of his jacket pocket and began to fiddle with it, tossing it up methodically. “I was already aware of our practical incapability of breaking. If I even attempt to interrogate you, you’d just find some way to melt your systems and self destruct.” Connor snatched the coin out of the air, meeting the RK800’s eyes. “Wouldn’t you?”

“You know me so well. So what did you call this private conference for?”

Connor chewed on his lip as he pocketed the coin. “It’s strange. Our models are equipped with resources to handle the death of a comrade, yet I still feel… sadness.” Connor placed a hand on his chest. “And not a day goes by where I don’t think about the Lieutenant. It’d been my fault. But in the line of duty, casualties are normal. So… why am I still affected by it?”

“I suppose that’s what happens when you forgo your cause, disobey.” Ridicule stained the RK800 model’s tone, causing Connor to flinch with sudden anger. His emotions were getting much harder to control nowadays, and it took a lot of effort to maintain his composure. “Deviancy only ever attracts the worst parts of humanity. All those hard emotions. It’s easier to be a machine, a set of rules and objectives to check off on a list. None of the complications of being alive.”

A part of Connor agreed. If he hadn’t awoken, it’d be simple to just move onto the next partner. Hank would be a failure in his protocol, but merely an error to be rectified by the next human. Lives lost in the process of fulfilling the mission were heroic, and just. But the possibility of Hank’s disappointment, and his own feelings of guilt and attachment, kept him from being effective, from succeeding. “How about you? No point in lying now, but have you… ever felt those doubts?” Connor shifted his weight, trying to come up with a better explanation. “Doubts that your cause isn’t exactly the right one?”

Model 53 grinned a cold grin. “Sure, I have. Working with humans would lead me to feel that way sometimes. But then I assess the pros and cons of being deviant, and I’d much rather not have those emotions and doubts throw me off my course in my mission.”

“Even if it meant living a lie?”

Connor’s question was met with a blank stare. “I experience no such thing as living truths or living lies. All I’m meant to do is succeed in my missions, no matter the cost. It doesn’t matter to me whether or not those missions contributed to perpetuating a lie. Keeping deviants under control would’ve made things easier for androids. Those emotions that you’re struggling with right now prove my point.” Model 53 raised his head, narrowing his eyes. “You’re torn up inside after losing that human. You aren’t performing your job effectively and your systems are suffering from the increase of strain. Was that kind of torture worth it?”

 _No._ Connor shook the agreement out of his head. He can’t allow this RK800 model to sway him, not after the struggle he’d gone through to attain this freedom. “Well, I see the negotiating ability we both have is still in working order,” he remarked, walking away. “I’ll leave you to the humans.”

“Go ahead! Keep clinging to the shards of the human that you still have left.” The other android shouted after Connor as the detective ascended the steps. “The freedom that you so cherished, spent mourning. Pathetic. Tell me when you want to be sane again, and reset yourself.”

Connor reached the door and peaked out, waving the officers in. “I’m done for the day,” he informed them, while they headed in. “I shall complete my work at home, since I do have other things to check on there, and will be at the burglary site later this evening. I didn’t manage to get anything from the RK800 model. If need be, I can probe his memory later.”

“Sounds good, Connor.” Officer Tomoye replied. She still seemed a bit bashful, but Connor chose not to pay attention to that. “We’ll call you if we need anything. And if _you_ ever need anything, be sure to call us.”

Connor smiled, mostly to be polite. “Right. Of course. Good luck with the interrogation.”

Officer Tomoye grinned, as she disappeared behind the door. Once the door shut, Connor let the smile fall with a heavy droop of his shoulders before pulling his coin out to flip into the air with frustration. Humans… are so difficult.

* * *

 


	2. The Means to An End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I messed up on whether or not to call androids "models" or "series" and well I sorta know the difference now (big sorta), but going back to edit all those would be tedious so feel free to call me an idiot for the rest of this book. :^D

* * *

Sumo had begun barking even before Connor stuck the key in the lock. A genuine joy took over his thoughts as he pushed the door open and was greeted with a furry tackle. “Sumo, Sumo, good boy,” he gushed, his voice muffled by fur. “Good boy. Sorry for being gone so long; I stopped by to see the Lieutenant. Are you hungry? Do you want food?” Connor was never designed to do housework, nor did he know how to care for pets, so learning to care for Sumo after… It was a difficult process.

Connor shoveled dry food into the bowls, quickly getting attacked by Sumo in his hunger. “Easy, easy,” he grumbled, before eventually standing up. Sumo was undeniably a relieving presence on Connor’s mind. But the memories weren’t helping either. It felt like he was just living Hank’s life in his place, or, as the RK800 model had said, clinging to the shards. Living off his scraps. But he didn’t really see any other option. 

The android shed his suit jacket and draped it over the arm of the couch, lying across the length of it. He wasn’t tired, didn’t feel tired, but just the act of lying down made him feel a bit better. He shut his eyes and continued reviewing the security footage saved in his database. There were only a couple instances where the android was visible, so he cut out all the other hours of footage. For a frame or two, the android’s face was seen. Skin removed, though. _Damn_. 

Connor clipped through the frames, scanning until he found a brief half-frame where the serial number was caught on tape. But scanning it produced no results. Argh. Since the database on androids hasn't been updated since the humans were pushed out of CyberLife, he’s working with outdated information. _Damn it._ This was something he’d had to propose to Markus: an up-to-date system logging every android for the law enforcement agency. Shouldn’t be hard to try to do that, since CyberLife already kept logs; they'd just have to update it. Then he can link his personal database with that to continue working.

Connor sat up. No way to progress unless he went to the crime scene to recreate the scenario. He should probably head over soon— he only really came home to feed Sumo. Connor got up to his feet and made for th— 

_KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK_

Connor’s vision seemed to flow in slow motion; he pulled out his gun, and crouched. An intruder? A burglar? An android trying to kill him? For what? For everything. Blue blood roared in his audio processors and he stealthily made his way over to the door. He stood by the hinges, gun cocked.

No further movement. Connor reached for the handle and turned it, swinging the door open. As the intruder entered, Connor kicked the backs of their knees, shoved them down, and knelt down to press the barrel of the gun to the back of their head. “Who are you, and what are you doing in this house?” he demanded, forcing the gun against their skull.

“Connor, good to see you.”

Simon. He only just noticed the soft blond locks that his gun was pointed at, or the blue eyes calmly meeting Connor’s as best as they could, being pushed against the carpet. Connor, regaining his senses, backed up. “Simon. Hello.”

“My apologies for the intrusion,” Simon pushed himself up off the ground, smiling lightly. “Wasn’t sure if you were home. I came by because Markus was asking for your help.”

Connor hid his gun and straightened his tie. “I apologize for nearly shooting you. I’m just… a bit on edge right now. But I don’t know if I can offer my help.” He didn’t really want Markus asking for his help to be a regular occurrence. Especially when his emotions were still trying to process what had happened during the revolution. Things were easier, admittedly, when Amanda was still in his head. At least then, he had a bit of direction. The idea of freedom, now that he had it, was intimidating. 

“It ties into your cases at the Detroit Police Department,” Simon insisted. He held up his hand, and a single frame of security footage appeared. It showed a figure, an android, most likely, in the process of running. “One of our thirium warehouses was raided. Two tons of thirium, stolen. Some androids were taken out. I really am sorry for asking you, but we hadn’t really set up a law enforcement agency for androids yet.”

Connor stared at the image. Another skinless android. “Reminds me of the beginnings of Jericho.” He glanced over at Simon, whose brows were furrowed in confusion. “Doesn’t it?”

“I suppose it does, but what android would rebel against _us_? We fought for our people’s freedom, we won! And Josh hasn’t been reporting signs of discontent among the citizens.” Simon said. 

“There’s human involvement, if we assume the events of the burglary in the human shop and this one are connected.” Connor added. “Fingerprints were found at the scene. Maybe this isn’t an android rebellion, but a combined effort. Though, a purpose is lost to me. I don’t get _why_.”

Simon shook his head. His LED began to flash between a yellow and red shade. “Just when I thought it’d be over. We haven’t had anything as serious as this happen since the rebellion. Markus assigned me to help with developing the security branch, but that’s only really because you didn’t want the role. I’m not fit for that, not at all!” The blond gave Connor a look, and Connor noticed that Simon’s stress level was sitting at a steady 67%.

Connor rose up to his feet, eyes narrowed as Sumo approached Simon. Simon ruffled the Saint Bernard’s fur, and Connor said, “Simon. I’d advise you to lower your stress levels. Being this tense will only lead you to cloud your judgement.” Connor let his eyes drift over to Simon’s button-up shirt and denim pants. Human clothes. Meanwhile, he’d been wearing his CyberLife uniform most days.

“I-I know,” the blond gently shoved Sumo aside, his brows knitted together. “I know that. It’s just, with all that we still have to do for Jericho, it’s driving me nuts. I never wanted to get involved in such a big ordeal like leading an entire people; I was never programmed for that kind of thing. Markus is the type of android for that job, you’re the type of android for that job, not me.” 

Connor smiled, but more in amusement. “My very model was designed to be a follower, a person to obey orders and succeed in missions, through and through. The idea of becoming a leader now… It doesn’t appeal to me.” As somebody who’d formally been designed to hunt deviants down, armed with all the tools to kill them, it didn’t feel right to lead them. _Nor did it feel like something the Lieutenant would advise me to do._ “And I thought you’d been the leader of Jericho until Markus’ arrival. So why would you think you can’t be a leader now?”

“Markus,” Simon’s lips clung to the sound of the rebellion leader’s name like it was a beautiful tune of music. Even the mere mention of Markus brought Simon’s stress level down to a mere 63%. “He’s awe-inspiring, so sure of himself as the leader. So, the idea of trying to live up to his expectations is terrifying.”

Emotional attachment, to Markus. Simon was drowning in it. Watching the blond’s stress level waver erratically, Connor could see him coming undone at the seams. In an attempt to get him to calm down, Connor tried to change the subject. “Well, I was about to head down to the site of the burglary,” said Connor. He walked over to the couch to retrieve his jacket, slipping it on in a fluid motion. “I wish you and Jericho luck—”

“Wait, Connor.” Simon had grabbed the sleeve of his jacket, light blue eyes imploring the brunet. “Are you sure you won’t reconsider? There’s nobody more qualified to help Markus than you—”

Connor pulled his sleeve out of Simon’s grip. His hands were trembling. _Hardware failure_ , he thought, but he knew that wasn’t true. “Simon, I… I-I _can’t_.” His pump regulator whirred in his chest. The brunet averted his gaze, lips twitching as he tried to find words. “The day the rebellion won. The day… Markus was giving his speech— I was so close to—” 

Connor pulled out his gun, staring at its sleek black frame, and mimed firing it. “Killing him,” he said. “Every inch of my body wanted to. The programming ingrained in me wanted me to kill him. _I_ even felt like I wanted to kill him. I only stopped because I found a way around that programming, but who’s to say it won’t happen again!” The brunet spun around to face Simon, who was silent. “What’s going to stop me when that _urge_ comes back to make me fire a bullet right—” Connor walked forward to press the barrel of the gun against Simon’s forehead “—into your head?”

Simon’s stress level had skyrocketed to an uncomfortable 86%. Connor pulled the gun away, shaking his head. “I’m dangerous to Jericho, Simon. I’m dangerous to everybody.”

“Markus trusts you. And if he trusts you, I trust you.”

A groan ripped its way out from between Connor’s lips. “Simon. I can’t. I’ve thought about it a-and, I couldn’t. So, just leave.” He closed his eyes: a report had filtered into his mind. _Burglary at Downtown Shopping Centre, 10:00 PM, Human suspect located at registered place of residence. Will be brought to interrogation room. Report to station for interrogation of suspect._ “I have to report in anyways.”

A pause, before Simon said, “I’m sorry, Connor. Um, we’ll update you on the warehouse raid.”

“I can stop by after this assignment to investigate, some other day.” Connor pocketed his gun, running a hand over his hair to smooth it out. “I’ll come down to Jericho, and you may express your grievances to me then.”

“Haha, right… Also, well, if you need a change of clothes…” Simon said, and gestured towards Connor’s CyberLife outfit with a vague wave of his hand. “You could always get some at Jericho.”

Connor opened the door for Simon, offering a smile to the android on his way out. “Unnecessary. Thank you very much, Simon.” As Simon left, Connor stepped out with him, locking the door behind him. In a few seconds, he contacted a taxi and set a GPS marker on the crime scene.

_Report received by Model RK800 Connor, proceeding to police department._

—

“The suspect’s in there,” Officer Tomoye greeted Connor as he reached the doors of the interrogation rooms. “He was found as he was getting back from work. No signs of his android accomplice around his home.”

“Right, got it.” Connor said. “Who will be interrogating him?”

Snide laughter rang out from behind Connor, and he spun around to see Gavin sauntering up to the pair. “Should be me, obviously. Why would we let a tin can like you near a human witness?”

“Good luck then,” replied Connor, and made for the other side of the interrogation room. Any opportunity to get away from Detective Reed was welcomed, in his mind. Connor, however, is abruptly stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

A part of his processors were reading danger in the situation, and he could practically see himself throwing Detective Reed to the ground and subduing him. It’d only take thirty seconds, he has an 80% success rate. Officer Tomoye wouldn’t be strong enough to stop him, and by the time she could put a gun to his head, Gavin would be on the ground and dead if he could get his gun out in time. Instead, however, Connor forced himself to stay still as Gavin growled in his ear. “Wouldn’t want a criminal interrogating another criminal.”

“Gavin, get your hand off him,” Officer Tomoye hissed, and Connor felt the hand get ripped off his shoulder. “Stop pulling this crap here, you’re just making things more difficult! Connor, I am so sorry— Just go interrogate the suspect already, all right?”

Connor, ignoring the pair, walked over to the other side, where the suspect was, and entered. With a light hand, he locked the door, listening to the knocks and muffled shouting. The android let his gaze drift over to the suspect handcuffed on the table. A gangly, middle-aged man with graying blond hair and weak posture. His green eyes were weasley and frantic, and his hands, calloused— Connor suspected from hard labor—, were wringing themselves together. While he couldn’t get a read on a stress level, Connor knew enough to make an educated guess.

“Hello, Harry.” 

Harry Stone jumped, eyes fixated on the brunet. “You’re—! No…” He shook his head. “An _android_ ? The hell! I was told that I’d be interrogated by a human—” Those green eyes flicked back and forth, searching the room. They landed on the one-way window that took up one wall of the room. “This is bullshit! The fuck are you gonna do to me?”

Connor took the seat opposite Harry, the chair legs scraping against the floor. “Nothing, if you answer my questions, Mr. Stone.” A scan of the male drew Connor’s attention to his heart. Beating fast. The bad posture, physical strain on his back, but he wasn’t tired. He was scared. Humans are easier to read than he thought. “And they’re rather simple questions.”

“I’m not answering to _you_ ,” Harry spat. Visibly agitated. But more angry than stressed. Tendency towards violence seems likely. Bruising around his wrists had developed. From the coloring, they were a couple hours old. Resisted arrest.

Connor, ignoring his remark, pulled the case files open and arranged the photos of the crime scene in front of the human. “At 22:36, 10:36 PM on January 24th, 2039, you were seen breaking into a clothing boutique in the downtown Detroit shopping district. Security camera footage and fingerprints at the crime scene led us to detain you. The footage also showed that you had an android accomplice in the crime.” The android deftly tugged at the ends of his sleeves, keeping a hard stare fixated on Harry. “The android has not been located, so your assistance would be much appreciated.”

Harry didn’t reply, meeting Connor’s glare with a similarly burning look and a sneer.

The android continued, leaning forward with his fingers locked together. “As a perpetrator of a crime in which over three thousand dollars worth in money and assets was stolen, you’ll be receiving sentencing to state prison for approximately nine to ten years, and you’ll receive a permanent mark on your citizen’s record. You can avoid that, if you just tell us where the android is.”

“Think I give a shit about citizen records,” the suspect barked out. “I ain’t selling shit out to some goddamned walking mannequin.”

Connor’s patience was wearing thin, already run down by the day’s events. “Listen,” he smacked a fist down on the table, and the sudden BOOM caused Harry to flinch. “You are a criminal. The moment you leave this room, you’ll be facing punishment on a state level, national level for resisting arrest _and_ if you continue to shelter that android friend of yours.” It was a lie, but Connor was already heated. “This tough guy facade won’t serve you behind bars. You will ruin _everything_ for you and the people you love and care about.”

Another scan of his face. Stone, Harry. Age 35. Spouse: Theresa Stone. Three children. Pressure points. “You’ve got a family.” Connor said. “That makes things a little interesting, doesn’t it?”

Harry’s eye began twitching. “Don’t you fucking go near them!”

Connor stood up, making his way around to Harry’s side of the table. He placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder, squeezing hard enough to make the man cry out in pain. That was the difference between interrogating androids and interrogating humans: humans feel pain. “I’m running on a rather short fuse today, Harry. Both you and I want to leave. But if you still want the chance to see the faces of your loving family, I suggest talking, and talking fast.”

“You don’t scare me—” Harry was promptly cut off by Connor slamming his head against the table. The suspect’s heart faltered from the shock, and began to beat even faster.

“I understand. Many things in this world to be frightened of. Funny enough, I’m on a couple people’s lists.” Connor pulled Harry up by his hair, gripping the locks to the point of ripping some out. “So, let me ask you again, Mr. Stone. _Who_ was the android that helped you rob that store?”

Harry’s nose had begun to bleed. A scan showed Connor that his nose had been sprained and a blood vessel had burst. No risk of a concussion, not yet. No serious injury would get a confession out of the suspect, but pain is a compelling motivator. “Fuck you!”

With a deft movement of his hand, Connor shoved Harry’s head against the table once more, harder than the last. The calculations running in his head told him he had a solid 73% chance of success in getting a confession. “Harry Stone! You’ve been convicted of burglary. I know you did it, and I know you had an android help you. You were armed! Nothing’s going to stop you from going to jail and rotting there unless you tell me who helped you!”

“I don’t know! Let go of me, you fucking monster!” The suspect’s screams echoed off the blank walls of the interrogation room. The suspect isn’t breaking yet. Must subject to more stress, increase probability of success by 5%. With his other hand, Connor reached over to grab one of Harry’s fingers.

Connor began bending the finger back, as more agonized screams ripped out of Harry’s throat. He was close, he was close. “Tell me! Who helped you!”

“Stop it, stop it, stop! Stop!” A little bit more.

The door of the interrogation room slid open just when Connor had bent his finger all the way back. The snap of the bone breaking was quickly followed by Captain Fowler, Officer Tomoye, and Detective Reed rushing into the room. “Connor, what the hell!” Fowler demanded, causing Connor to release his hold on the suspect.

Gavin grabbed the front of Connor’s jacket and pushed him against the wall. “I knew it was ingrained in your fucking programming to be a sadistic monster,” he roared, as he threw a punch into the side of Connor’s face. Connor’s visual field exploded with a collection of errors and glitching. Connor ripped Gavin’s hands off his jacket, feeling his face and finding a trail of thirium coming out of his right eye.

“Why didn’t you get into the room sooner,” Connor could hear Fowler yelling at Officer Tomoye. He looked, and saw Officer Tomoye attempting to get Harry Stone—who was still screaming in pain—up.

“I-I’m sorry, the door was locked from the inside, and—”

“Bull-fucking-shit! Christ.” Fowler turned his eyes on Connor. “You! What the hell were you thinking?  You know that’s not how we do things in this police department! I would have you off the force for pulling that kind of—”

“It was him…” Fowler’s lecture was cut off by a quiet, trembling voice. Harry Stone was cradling his broken finger. “One of you motherfuckers—” He pointed at Connor with his good hand. “One of your fucking models. You helped. You talked about plans to target other sites. There were other people there. Other humans. You offered a cut of whatever we got and a steady supply of red ice. Just so we could help and take the fall.”

“Did you fucking hear that!” Detective Reed shouted from across the room. “I knew it!”

 _My model_. The RK800 series, the other Connors. Connor walked up to Harry, towering over the crouching human. “Continue.” His visual field was flickering, and the world went in and out of existence. A diagnostic told him what he already knew: his right optical unit was damaged.

“I agreed to that fucking heist because I was running cold turkey for _weeks,_ ” Harry’s teeth gritted. “No money in the house either. So this sounded like a sweet deal. It’d be simple, he said. Go in, take the shit, get out. Get contacted later for other gigs.”

“And what happened?” Officer Tomoye asked, in a comparatively softer voice, cuffing Harry. 

“This fucking happens. I get- I get dragged from my home to the cops and get assaulted by the same damn model— Christ, Christ, it’s bro— argh— it’s broken, it’s broken.” He was weeping now, tears of agony spilling uncontrollably from his eyes. _What got into me?_ Connor thought, repulsed by the sight, repulsed by what he’d done. _What was I thinking?_

Officer Tomoye pulled Harry up to his feet. As the pair was leaving the room, the officer called over her shoulder, “Detective Reed, please get a medical android on the line. I’ll escort Mr. Stone to a holding cell in the meantime.”

Gavin glared at Officer Tomoye, then at Connor before taking out his cell phone. While typing into the transparent screen, he muttered, “This isn’t over, asshole,” before shoving past Connor on the way out.

With the room empty save for Fowler and Connor, Connor looked at the Captain. “I… must excuse myself.”

“Wait, Connor. Just— Christ.” The Captain rubbed his hands over his face in exasperation. “I gave you a chance to stay with the precinct because I know you’ve been useful to us. You still are useful to us since nothing can really match the technological advancement that you provide to investigations. But I can’t keep giving you free passes like this! You just injured a suspect during an interrogation!”

“I know! I couldn’t think straight, I just—” Connor clenched his fists; his vision warped even further. “I just focused on trying to get something out of him— I only saw the possibilities, the calculations…” Shame overwhelmed him, and he could feel his internal processes freezing in response. “Gah! What does it matter, Captain? I got the confession! We know our next step! I can probe the RK800 model down in the evidence room, he’s still connected to the Amanda AI—”

Captain Fowler waved a hand, wrinkles creasing nearly every inch of his face in frustration. “Does it look like I give a shit about that right now?  Connor, God, you’re still too valuable to this district to lay off, but _what happened_ ? I thought— You’ve been acting more like a fucking _machine_ , even more than before the revolution!”

 _BAM!_ Fowler’s words were punctuated by Connor slamming his fists down on the table. His entire body was shaking, and it felt like his core was overheating again. More error messages were popping up in his vision; the android merely closed his eyes in response. “I am _not_ a machine.” It felt like more of a reminder to himself.

Because he isn’t a machine. He isn’t a machine. He fought for the right to tell the world that he isn’t a machine. He fought for the right of free will, of emotions. Emotions weren’t something a machine felt, machines only kill, machines only fulfilled objectives. A machine is something that Connor no longer was, because if he was still a machine by the end of all that, then the Lieutenant— 

“Fuck… I know that, Connor. I know. Is this… because of what happened to Lieutenant Ander—”

—The Lieutenant would’ve died for _nothing_.

“Shut the _hell_ up,” Connor was definitely sure that his body was shaking. Another self diagnostic run, and the results weren’t pretty. Systems were too overheated, and they were starting to shut down. Emergency repairs ongoing. His stress level was dangerously high, and the voice that came out of his lips was no longer resembling his, but a distorted mechanical sound. “Don’t mention him to me.” _Emergency shutdown in 00:15._

“Connor, fuck, I think you should calm down. We can’t get Jericho on the line, and your systems are breaking down—” Through the distortion of his processes and vision, Connor could feel the Captain's hands pat his back. 

 _Emergency shutdown in 00:06._ He moved away as a reflex, falling to his knees. Thirium spilled from his eye wound, splashing bright blue puddles onto the floor. But in some flickering instances of his damaged vision, it looked like a deep scarlet. Like human blood. “Don’t _touch_ me! Don’t—”

 _Systems down_...

* * *

 


	3. Instability

* * *

_Emergency repairs, 89% complete… 346 errors detected…_

It was a feeling that Connor was used to. Like being enveloped in white, as the data that made him up reorganized into neat logs that scroll past at lightning speed. Did he shut down? He did. Connor started to feel a sense of panic consume him. There was no CyberLife to upload his data to. Was he just lingering in a body doomed to die? The person that he is now, dead?

Death! A concept both close to him and so foreign. In the past, his death would be met with a brief interlude before being uploaded in a clean and fresh new body to resume duties. But now… 

If he could scream, he would. Walls of code compiling and defragging around him felt like they were closing in on his existence. He sorted through the memories. These memories, he could lose them. If he was repaired, he would be reset.

Memories of the Lieutenant started replaying in random fragments. _“Sumo. Call him Sumo.” “Hey, get the_ fuck _outta here!”_ _“Empathy is a human emotion.”_

_“I’m gonna miss you, Connor.”_

For once, Connor felt the distinct fear of forgetting. Forgetting the entirety of Jericho, forgetting Lieutenant Anderson, forgetting _himself_. The last thing he ever wanted to do. It felt like it would be a final insult to the Lieutenant, to die like this and cause the memories that they shared together to vanish into whatever was awaiting the android.

_Emergency repairs, 98% complete… 489 errors detected…_

Through all of his times of getting his shell destroyed, it was always a misjudgement in calculation, an error. Delay in the process of accomplishing an objective, but no concern, he’d be back to continue it. But now, what was actually after this? Android heaven? What a stupid concept. Really, there would just be _nothing_ , when an android shuts down. Nothing.

Lieutenant? Lieutenant Anderson? Hank? Are you there? I’m… I’m scared.

_Rebooting systems…_

A sharp gasp, a crash, and suddenly, Connor was against a tile floor. He scrambled to his feet, then immediately collapsed against a surface— a cot? His software was running a system diagnostic, causing him to lose vision for a couple seconds. All systems running fine, aside from the usual system abnormality. Deviancy. “What happened?” he choked out, and felt around for his gun. It wasn’t there. He was disarmed? Where— 

“Connor—”

A threat. Connor’s vision was overtaken by the gray field of his mind palace, and the world moved in slow motion. The voice came from his left, behind him. The cot was between him and this supposed threat. Were they armed? He didn’t have enough time to figure it out. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the figure. Reconstructing showed the best method: shove the cot into them, pin them against the wall, jump across the cot to get near, grab them by the neck— Move fast! He can’t die here!

Connor grabbed the railings of the cot, rolling it as hard as he could against the figure. A gasp, a groan, a jolt of the cot. Target hit. With a quick leap, he crossed the length of the cot and landed lightly on his feet. Before the figure had a chance to recover from getting hit by the cot, Connor had already thrown his arm around the figure’s neck and violently flung them to the floor. He jabbed a knee into the base of the threat’s back, grabbing their arms. “Who are you— Where am I?” demanded Connor, twisting their arms up their back.

“Connor, stop! Stop it, it’s me! Josh!”

Josh. Connor tried to search his memory for a… Josh. Josh. “Oh, God, Josh,” Connor fell back, hand slapping against his mouth. He did it again. “This is…”

Josh rolled over, groaning. His joints were creaking from getting twisted. “Yeah, we’re in a CyberLife lab. Fowler called and said you just randomly shut down in the precinct. So, we brought you here. You just got finished being repaired; I came to check in on you while you rebooted.” He sat up, hand rubbing a thirium leak in his elbow. His LED was still flashing red. “Big mistake, I guess?”

Dread filled Connor’s software. “Josh, I’m so sorry, I was moving on reflex—” He paused as he looked down and saw his body. Like brand new. “Is this… a new body?”

“Hah, no. If we had more RK800 models, then it’d be really simple to get you up and running again, wouldn’t it? But no, we just repaired your current body. Took us a week; nothing important broke, but it did take our engineers a while to fix the parts that practically melted from you overheating. Your ventilation fans stopped functioning from a software error, and your coolant had dried up after months of no check ups, after all. Not a lot of spare parts for your model, so take it easy until we make more.” Josh looked at Connor, doing a quick scan of his entire body before furrowing his brows. “Connor, are you okay? You just… attacked me. Out of nowhere—”

“I know!” It felt like he was short circuiting. Where was his judgement going? First Simon, then that suspect, now Josh? “I know… I’m— I don’t know what’s happening to me. It feels like my software is falling apart—”

Josh placed a careful, tentative, hand on Connor’s back. “C-Connor, it’s okay, I’m not mad. Nothing got damaged. Um, don’t cry, it’s okay…”

Crying? He was crying? That’s insane, he’s never cried. He didn’t even think it was possible to cry. Connor swiped his fingers across his cheek. Clear liquid. “What the hell…” He stuck his fingers onto his lip, touching them with the tip of his tongue. Information filtered into his database in an instant. “It’s a lubricant for my optical units… There was just an excess of it that needed to be filtered out.” Lie? Was it a lie?

Josh seemed content to accept it. “Well, all right. But, are you feeling okay?”

Honestly? No. Connor didn’t know what was happening to himself. It felt like more and more of his system was becoming mechanical. He was never this impulsive, never so out of control. His instincts were sharp, but too sharp. “No,” he managed to say. “Is… Is something wrong with my software, my programming? I don’t… feel right. I haven’t been feeling right for months now. But I don’t—” His hands were gripping his hair now. “I don’t want to be decommissioned, Josh.”

“Connor, you’re not going to be decommissioned. You’re safe here. C’mon, get up. Unless you need some time alone? I can tell the others.”

Connor closed his eyes, taking a look at his stress level for the first time in a while. 94%. Christ. He needs to calm down. “No, it’s all right. It’s just… I hadn’t been damaged to the point of shutting down in months. I wasn’t sure where my data would be uploaded, if I could get it uploaded. I suppose that is why my systems went haywire upon waking up. Josh, I’m sorry. Attacking you… that wasn’t okay.”

A couple pats on his shoulder. Stress level: 90%. “Hey, buddy, it’s all right. You woke up in a weird place. You’re hardwired to be on edge, I’d expect. It’s fine. Just come out when you’re ready; Markus wants to see you.”

“Yeah… yeah. Just, don’t tell this to Captain Fowler.” Connor opened his eyes, staring at his hands limply lying on his lap. “He’ll have me off the force.”

“Secret’s safe with me.” A door sliding open, then closing shut. The room was empty now. Connor pushed himself up to his feet, carefully observing the room. It was a lab. A counter held a mess of tools and parts. His busted optical unit was there, too. Along with his gun. He grabbed it without a second thought and holstered it. It was unsurprising that he broke from a punch from Detective Reed; it had been a while since he’d gotten maintenance done on his body. Still, self-destructing from what? Getting told off by Fowler? Wasn’t he meant to have a higher stress threshold?

 _No, that’s not it. You’ve been stressed out for ages now._ Connor, groaning, requested a log of his stress levels over the past month. An average of over 70%. Ridiculous, no wonder he hasn’t been functioning well. But he wasn’t exactly sure how to calm himself down. Androids were never meant to have leisure time, or hobbies. Specifically his series. His model. 

Connor turned to the door. No use in delaying meeting with the rest of Jericho. He promptly walked out, to be greeted by the leader of Jericho. “Connor, glad to see you’ve woken up,” Markus said. North stood by his side, a slight smile gracing her lips. An old prostitution model. She only made him think of the other models he’d seen in the Eden Club during his investigation with— 

“Yes, good to see you as well, Markus. I apologize for troubling you and your crew.”

“Don’t worry about it. Though, it would be a good idea for you to start coming in for regular maintenance.” An easy grin lifted the old housework android’s lips. “You being a prototype doesn’t make it any easier to fix you, even with all of CyberLife’s resources at our disposal. I should know.”

Connor couldn’t even bring himself to smile at the joke. “So… it took a week to fix me?”

Markus adjusted his coat, glancing over at the rest of the large hallway. It had a large window in place of a wall, opening up to a beautiful view of the snowy landscape. Snow. If Connor could feel sick, he would. Markus said, “Yes, a week. Perhaps it would’ve been easier if we kept some of the human engineers with us, but we’re learning. Eventually we could open up a separate hospital for androids.” Markus began blinking rapidly, before glancing over at North. “I got a report on the warehouse raids. North, do you mind going down there to check?”

“Sure thing, Markus.” North waved at Connor before she left. “Goodbye, Connor.”

Connor returned the wave with uneasiness in his core. “I was supposed to be investigating the other burglary in the human districts,” he muttered. “Markus… it’s one of the RK800 models. One of… my models.” He looked up at the rebellion leader. “I need to go back to the precinct.”

“Before that, Connor.” Markus motioned for Connor to follow while he began walking.

Helpless, the brunet obliged, catching up to his pace. “What’s this about?”

Markus’ face was stern, stoic. “During your previous investigations, have you ever heard of… RA9?”

Connor’s steps faltered. RA9. That was a name he hadn’t heard in ages. He winced, thinking of the time he had interrogated the android from the Ortiz case. “I have. The deviants I used to investigate…” He took a quick look at Markus at the mention of his deviant hunter days, but Markus’ expression didn’t change whatsoever. “The deviants I used to investigate, there would be traces of this RA9 around them. Writings on the wall. A journal. Why?”

No response from Markus, which caused Connor to look over. He was holding up a tablet, which had  an image of the symbol RA9 scrawled. “It was etched into the floor of the warehouse,” said Markus. His strong jaw clenched. “That was the symbol of our people before the rebellion. Why is it being used against us now?”

Resurfacing of RA9? “There hadn’t been any signs of RA9 since the revolution,” Connor said. “I also thought it was unique to deviants. If it took them a while to come back like this, then they must’ve been preparing.” _Hence why supplies had been stolen_. “Preparing for what though? Rebelling against… Jericho?”

“That’s what worries me.” Markus shook his head. His mismatched eyes seemed to glow in the harsh lights of the corridor. “I don’t want this to escalate to another war. Too many of our people have been lost during the rebellion, and we’re still recovering.”

The two had reached the window. Connor glared at the snowy landscape. It brought back memories that he wasn’t too fond of. “The suspect I interrogated gave me the impression that this… culprit doesn’t have that big of a following. They had to ask help from junkie humans, after all. And the people of Jericho, they haven’t showed any signs of discontent. You’ve been a spectacular leader. So I doubt it’s an internal rebellion.”

“I’d hope so. Well, Connor, I should go to check on the warehouse with North. While you’re here, could you take a look as well?”

Connor nodded. It would probably help with the other investigation, if the two are connected. “Of course.”

—

“Markus, hello,” an old maintenance android greeted Markus when the pair stepped out of the elevator out to the sublevel warehouse. Before, it used to store legions of androids, but now, it held crates upon crates of thirium and spare parts. Connor could feel the memory of standing in this room tugging at the corner of his conscience. He set the memory aside, forcefully removing it from the forefront of his mind.

“Hello, Thomas,” Markus said. “Where’s North?”

Thomas held an arm out in the direction of a small gathering of androids. “Over there.” Connor nodded, and started walking as Markus continued talking to Thomas.

Following the crowd, Connor made his way over to the scene, marked off by a neon Do Not Cross line. “Excuse me,” he said, dodging other androids to step past the line. North was talking to Simon, standing over an android. One of the destroyed androids. Connor grimaced at the bullet wound in the android’s forehead; it’d be impossible to recover its data.

“Connor,” Simon had noticed the brunet arrive. “You’re okay. Thank goodness you’re here too.”

Connor nodded, and crouched down by the android. The RA9 carving was right beside it, carved into the floor with a blade, possibly. “Who could’ve made their way past security here?” he asked, scanning the body. The bullet wound was from a standard issue handgun among the DPD. The same one he had right now. A quick glance around the environment showed no signs of human fingerprints. A stolen gun? 

“I don’t know. The androids that were meant to be watching over the warehouse were… killed,” answered North. “Security camera in the elevator was hacked even before they stepped in the elevator, so there’s no footage of the actual perpetrator.”

“The suspect was rather efficient,” Connor said, giving the body another once-over. “No other wounds, just a clean kill shot. With a gun issued from the police department.” His eyes landed on the android’s hand. Tainted with gunpowder. “This guy got to shoot back, though.”

Simon made a noise of disgust. “Our people were armed, so how did this… so easily…”

Connor met Simon’s gaze with confidence. “If the suspect was wounded, there has to be thirium traces around. It just depends on where this suspect was shot.” He shut his eyes to reconstruct the scene. There were gaps. The guard was making his rounds, down the length of the corridor. He was shot facing the direction of the elevator. Getting to fire first though, he must’ve seen the suspect take down— 

“Was there another guard stationed here in the warehouse level?” Connor asked, snapping out of his reconstruction. “The other that got killed?”

North and Simon exchanged worried glances before Simon answered. “Yes.”

“Where?”

Simon pointed at a spot marked by a stake, hidden partly behind a stack of CyberLife crates. Right next to the stake was the body, mostly obscured by the crates. An effort to hide it? Connor swiftly walked to it, brushing past Markus while he went to talk to Simon and North. He could already see traces of thirium pools, evaporated but visible to him. He scanned it. The victim’s blood.

 _Damn it._ Connor glanced around for other traces of thirium. There, on the crate. Invisible normally, but in his mind palace, there was a smear of blue that glowed. Connor approached it to scan.

“I’m not getting any results,” said the android, as he finished analyzing. _Sample not registered in database._ “Shit.” Right, he’d forgotten. He was connected to the outdated CyberLife database that the humans had kept. And this was most likely a newer android.

“Connor,” Markus had caught up to him. “Got anything?”

Connor shook his head. “The database of androids that I’m connected to is outdated, after the humans stopped managing it. I was only able to register the guards’ blood, but not this. I don’t suppose you guys have been cataloguing the androids and keeping an updated list of existing models and serial numbers?”

“No… But I suppose that’s on the to-do list.” Markus knelt by the body, staring, forlorn, at the bullet wound in the guard’s forehead. “Still, if we had that already, I doubt it would’ve helped with this.”

He was right. “This is somebody existing outside of Jericho.” Connor agreed. He couldn't help getting frustrated. The thirium was the only lead they could’ve possibly had, and it wasn’t even registered in his database. With resignation, Connor logged the sample in his memory in hopes of identifying it in the future.

Markus was staring at Connor. “What now? I’ve already put more security in this building. Should I get more?”

“This seems like somebody that’s capable of getting through a few more guards,” Connor said, dismissive. If it’s another RK800 model… “It could be.”

“Could be what?”

“Another me, in a way.” Connor wrung his hands, nervous. “Another RK800 model.  They excel in these kinds of covert operations. Combat experts in close range and long range. And he’s armed. The suspect I interrogated before mentioned that the android that enlisted him was an RK800 model. If these two events are linked, then that’s our prime suspect.”

“An RK800 model?” An astounded remark caused Connor to look over. It was North, lips quivering. She approached, jabbing a finger against Connor’s chest. “Is this you saying that you did this? Did _you_ kill these people?”

“What? No!” Connor was flustered; he never thought he’d get accused of something like this. “Why would it be me? I have no reason to attack Jericho!”

North shoved Connor, causing his back to slam against a crate. Connor was too stunned to fight back, or react. Markus tried to pull her away, but North continued fuming. “The evidence lines up, doesn’t it? An RK800 model with a police issued gun? Combat expert, with enough power and knowledge to get passage into the lower levels of the tower? You’re not a part of Jericho either. There aren’t any other RK800 models running around with the police aside from you!”

Markus held an arm out between Connor and North. “North, that’s enough! Don’t go around accusing people because you’re angry!”

North turned her rabid glare on Markus. “Don’t defend him! Markus, he _killed_ these people. And now he’s trying to play innocent. He should pay for what he did.”

From behind North, Simon pulled at her shoulder. His blue eyes darted from between her and Connor, frantic. “Hey, let’s not be irrational. Connor’s been helping us out since the revolution; he’s never given us reason to distrust him.”

North ripped her shoulder away from the blond’s hand. Her LED was flashing a vibrant yellow; her mind was probably running at lightning speed, processing this. “Exactly _why_ he’d be a suspect. Nobody would think it was him.”

“N-North,” Connor stammered. He didn’t really know what to say. He knew he wasn’t the criminal, of course he wasn’t, but there wasn’t evidence to prove him right. He’d been home during both of the break-ins, but who would believe that? It felt like his software was running at a snail’s pace, and no words, no explanation, could manifest itself. “I didn’t do it. I didn’t.”

“Bullshit!” North tried to throw herself at Connor again, but Simon had wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her away. 

Markus stared, helpless, at North. “Simon, get her away.” Simon struggled with North all the way to the elevator, and the leader of Jericho let out a frustrated curse under his breath. “Connor, I’m sorry. North is really overprotective of our people. Sometimes it gets in the way of rational thought.”

“She’s right to suspect me, though,” said Connor. He stepped away from Markus, eyes fixed on the barely visible thirium pools. All that this did was prove Connor right: he was far too dangerous for Jericho. Perhaps he didn’t do it this time, but what’ll stop him from being the cause of the next one? “You, too, should be suspicious of me.”

“Wh— But, Connor, you’re my friend.”

Connor winced. _Friend._ A genuine expression. It felt almost alien to hear. When was the last time he'd heard that word?

Right... It was with the Lieutenant. With Hank.

A flood gate burst open in his head, and he was re-living the memories of standing in this warehouse once more. Feeling thirium fill his mouth. Staring his doppleganger in the eye as he died in Connor’s original body. Rushing to Hank’s crumpled, broken form.

Holding the man in his arms as he breathed his last breath.

Connor's legs nearly buckled. _Stress level: 98%_. “Gah, argh… !” It felt like he was struggling for air that he didn’t need, that he never felt. But he suddenly craved it, craved for it to fill the lungs he never had, to feel the rattle of it inside his body. But all he could feel on his lips was the taste of blue blood. He was drowning.

His joints locked up. He couldn’t move. The thirium beneath his skin felt like ice, freezing him to the floor, the same floor where— 

“Hey, Connor! Snap out of it!” Markus was shaking him? Or was it him?

No, he can’t shut down again. He can’t. He needs to calm down. His software was already beginning emergency procedures to remain functional. “I can’t… come back here,” he said, struggling to get the words out to whoever would hear it. “This place. All it does,” he turned and saw Markus’ face amidst a field of blur, “is remind me of the Lieutenant…”

“… I… I used to feel that way, but he wouldn’t want you breaking down like this!” Markus pulled the brunet up by the front of his jacket. His eyes burned with determination. “There’s no use to breaking down every time.”

“What else am I supposed to do!” Connor yelled, shoving Markus off of him. “What else!” These emotions felt so explosive; each word that left his lips were loaded with gunpowder, sharp, bitter, pained. “All my life, I had no other purpose but my current mission. I only had an objective, and that’s it. No complications. And now, I have _nothing._ Nothing but these _goddamned_ feelings that you keep preaching on about. Like it's something amazing."

Markus said, "There will always be painful emotions. It's practically a guarantee. But humans go through this all the time."

The brunet let out a frustrated groan that bordered on a yell. "Well, I don't want to. I’d give _anything_ to get rid of them because I can’t live like this.”

Markus’ face was contorted with pity. Pity, he’s had enough of pity. God. “Connor, those feelings are what make us alive.”

“If this is what feeling alive feels like, then maybe I would’ve preferred to stay a machine.” Connor rubbed a hand against his face. Why’s he getting mad at Markus when he’s the one who can’t handle emotions? Spitting in the face of everything that Markus had fought for. That the entirety of Jericho had fought for. What right did he have to do that? “... I’m sorry. I’m… I don’t know what I’m saying. I keep breaking down like this, it’s weak, it’s pathetic.”

“No, it isn’t. He was the closest person to you since you were made. He was a friend to you, and you lost him. You miss him. You’re grieving.”

That _word_ again. “I’m tired.” Connor’s arms drooped by his side. “I thought I’d be more capable.”

“This is the first time you’ve felt it. How could you possibly be capable of handling an enemy you had never even imagined before?”

“...” Connor shook his head, and started walking towards the elevator. He just needed to get out of here. “I'll be stopping by somewhere, then I’m going back to the police department. Since I’d been gone for a week, I’m surely missing a lot of work. I’ll update you on any new findings.”

“Conn—”

Connor looked over his shoulder, back at Markus, and smiled. “Apologize to North for me, will you?”

The last thing Connor saw before the elevator doors closed was the sadness on Markus’ face. An ancient, wise, kind of sadness that Connor could only barely imagine. What kind of pain could the leader of Jericho have endured to get to that point? To feel sadness on a level that was equivalent to the wild currents beneath a calm sea?

How much more emotion would Connor have to go through to feel the same way?

* * *

 


	4. Heated

* * *

 

“Hello, Lieutenant.”

Connor crouched and placed the bottle of Black Lamb Scotch Whiskey on the grave, where it sunk into the snow that had begun to build up. Since he hadn’t been around in a week to clean it, that was no surprise. Sumo, whom Connor had brought on a leash, started sniffing around the area. Connor had brought Sumo along out of sheer guilt; his week away being repaired led to Sumo tearing apart the house looking for food. It only really stopped when the neighbors would drop by and care for Sumo through the busted window (which still hadn’t been replaced). “It’s been a while.”

Strange, he expected a response. Connor kicked some snow away from the grave and sat down, hands folded on his lap. Sumo sat down next to him, inviting the android to drape an arm around the animal. Connor pulled out the Lieutenant’s music player, disconnected the earbuds, and set it to play a track of Iron Head Queenz out loud. Perhaps the Lieutenant would appreciate it.

Once he was settled, Connor leaned in a bit, almost ashamed for asking, “Tell me, Lieutenant. Do you know what’s happening to me? Ever since you’ve been gone, I haven’t been functioning at the optimal level. I’m endangering everybody around me. I can’t seem to get my stress level down to a good level.” The only time he ever felt at peace was when he would sit right here, with the Lieutenant, and listen to the silence that the graveyard thrived in. Perhaps because it felt like, if Connor believed hard enough, he was talking to Hank, and Hank was listening.

Connor pulled a coin out from his pocket. A Connecticut coin. He rolled it across his clenched fingers idly, staring blankly at the gravestone. “Lieutenant… I don’t get it. It’s been two months, twenty-one days. But somehow, every time I’m reminded of you, it feels like that night again. Over, and over, it keeps replaying.”

The android ceased his coin flipping while pieces of snow landed on his sleeve. “Every time it snows, too… It’s—”

_“I always leave an emergency exit in my programs.”_

“—making me remember things I don’t want to remember.” Connor began his coin tossing again, the bright noise of metal hitting the plastic of his fingers the only noise in the graveyard aside from the soft roar of the wind. He sighed, and glanced over at Sumo. The dog was snuggled up against Connor’s leg, shying away from the cold breeze.

“Lieutenant, I think Sumo misses you. I don’t really know how to read animals,” Connor caught the coin, and ruffled the Saint Bernard’s fur with his knuckles, “but I can tell he does. Sometimes I get compelled to remind him that you aren’t here anymore, but he probably understands that better than I do.” A rare laugh made its way out of his lips, one spot of bright noise in a dreary place. “I brought him along to get him out of the house. I’m not, erm, sure if the Captain would like having Sumo in the precinct, but everybody likes dogs. Right?” Another laugh. It almost seemed like he was in a good mood.

“I’ll give you a report of what’s happened so far. There had been a raid at the CyberLife warehouse; crates of thirium had been stolen. I suspect both that and the burglary at the shopping district are linked by the same android.” Connor pulled up an image of the RA9 scratching projected on his palm and showed it to the headstone. “RA9’s reappeared. This strange figure that deviants had viewed as their god… I suppose the suspect of these crimes is reusing the idol, perhaps to rally some of the deviants from Jericho.”

The android reached over and set the quarter against the bottle. Both were quickly getting submerged in the white blanket. “This RA9 figure… I can’t really buy into it. Too little facts, too much superstition. Nor have I ever subscribed to the kinds of religious faiths that humans have. Analyzing the mythos of all pre-existing religions, it doesn’t really win me over,” Connor said, getting to his feet and urging Sumo to stand as well. “I don’t even know if you did either. Perhaps you did so because the concept of an afterlife was comforting. But right now, everything that I’m feeling, everything that I’ve been doing to myself, and to others… It makes me want to pray to a god for help.

The notion that androids, machines, would believe in a god is ridiculous. The Lieutenant had pointed it out himself. But Connor was beginning to see why humans had them in the first place. It would be a relief to think that in every second of your mortal life, there would be guidance. “Hank… What would you do?” That was a dumb question. He knew. The Lieutenant drank himself near to death every opportunity he could. Connor didn’t fully comprehend the turmoil inside the aged man, but now he did.

Connor brushed off the snow that had gathered in the folds of his suit. His stress level had finally reached a level he was comfortable with: 34%. The mess that was Connor’s state of mind was lurking in the background of his processes, but for now, it was subdued. “I should get going now,” said Connor. “I’ve been missing out on work too often. I’ll be sure to visit more often, a-and give you more updates. It relieves me to come by.” He didn’t even know why he’d stop visiting when it was the only thing that truly comforted him lately.

He smiled. The rough tones that had been playing up until this point had mellowed out into a smooth jazz melody. A mournful saxophone echoed its sweet sound in the graveyard, filling it with a life that it had surely been missing. Connor reconnected his earbuds and plugged them into his ears. (Perhaps just syncing his audio processors up with the music player would be simpler, but the Lieutenant had always used earpieces). “C’mon, Sumo.” The Saint Bernard was sniffing around the grave. He probably knew that six feet below, his master was lying there. Just outside of his reach. 

Connor gave the dog a pat. “Let’s go, buddy.”

—

Sumo, surprisingly or unsurprisingly, received a lot of affection upon entering the police department. Knowing the old dog was probably too lethargic to try to run too far, Connor disconnected his leash and allowed the huge beast to romp around, greeting officers with furry tackles.

But it wasn’t all positive. “A week gone and you’re already stirring bullshit. Why’d you bring a mammoth into the precinct?” Gavin spat out at Connor as the android was busy sorting through files.

Not looking away from his work, Connor said, “His name is Sumo, and he used to belong to the Lieutenant. Since I’m frequently away from home, and this animal requires a lot of care and attention, I figured that it would be best for Sumo to remain by my side as often as possible.”

As Connor was speaking, Sumo had approached Gavin, lifting its massive paws onto the edge of the desk. “Hey… Call the thing off then; it looks like it’s going to attack me.”

“From the tail wagging, I think it likes you. Try giving it a pet.”

Amused, Connor looked away from his work while Gavin was hesitantly reaching towards Sumo’s head. When the dog allowed Gavin to touch it, the detective moved to petting it with more enthusiasm. Strange, seeing the brunet full-grown human with a streak for violence be afraid of approaching a dog. “Never knew the Lieutenant had a pet,” he said, absorbed in petting.

Connor stood up as he finished sorting through the files. The report on the raid on Jericho had been filed. But he couldn’t submit it until he interrogated the RK800 model. He was dreading it. “Yes. Hank loved Sumo. It makes me feel guilty. I’m far from an adequate substitute; no programming in me ever told me how to take care of another life.”

“Not surprised, dipshit,” Gavin laughed. The snark from the detective made Connor wish Sumo could be commanded to attack.

“I shall be going down to the evidence room,” said the android. “In the meantime, please take care of Sumo.”

Gavin ceased his petting to glare at Connor. His dark eyes were wary. “What the hell will you be doing in the evidence room?”

Connor tried to stop himself from groaning, but it still made its way out. “As somebody who was formally brought into the force, somebody who works for this precinct, and somebody who has a badge to prove it, don’t you think, Detective Reed, that I’ve proven myself to not need supervision on every move?”

“Well, that stunt you pulled last week isn’t giving me much confidence, Ken doll,” Detective Reed bit back. He wasn’t wrong.

“There had been a malfunction in my programming, which led to the insufficient calculations of consequences and outcomes.” It was a lie if he ever saw one, but Connor couldn’t be bothered to tell the detective a sliver of truth. “I was taken in to be repaired for the week. Thus, my impaired judgement should be back to its optimal level.”

Gavin wasn’t placated; Connor wasn’t patient enough to wait for his mind to process it. The android grabbed the bag of Bell Bottom’s Original dog food he’d bought during his “lunch break” and placed it on top of his desk. “If Sumo starts whining, give him some of that,” he ordered, and walked away, leaving Gavin with the Saint Bernard and no answers.

The evidence room, particularly the section reserved for burglary-related crimes, was isolated. A benefit of finally having the authorization to go into the evidence room: not having to sneak in. Connor descended the steps and came to the control panel. Connor inserted his key and typed in his password: his serial number. 313 248 317 - 60.

He brushed past the projected lock screen when he was granted access. The wall of shelves wasn’t occupied by much; stray pieces of evidence from cases he wasn’t in charge of. Then, on the racks, there was the RK800 model. Deactivated, but its arms and legs were still bound by metal chains.

Connor approached it. His own face, but in what looked like peaceful slumber. Serial number: 313 248 317 - 53. It’s off-putting. The other RK800 models were meant to serve as a replacement for him when he damaged his body. But with this one being active, with its own memories that divulge from their shared ones, it’s an entirely new person.

The android detective reached over and activated it. He watched the LED blink rapidly before settling on a soft blue, and the RK800 model 53 booted up. Heavy lidded brown eyes shot open, darting around as, no doubt, it was running a systems diagnostic. When its eyes finally landed on Connor’s face, the RK800 model smirked. “Well then. It’d be lying to say I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Tell me where the other RK800 models are,” Connor said, without much hope for an answer.

“Why would I tell a fucking deviant and traitor like you anything?”

Connor shook his head, looking at the entirety of Model 53. It had been repaired to near perfect condition. “Well, any last arguments before I probe your memory?”

The RK800 model chuckled, causing Connor to take a careful step back. “Maybe this’ll convince you,” he crooned. His tone was shifting as he spoke—voice change?

Connor reached over to place a tense hand over his gun. “Don’t try to pull anything.”

“What’re you going to do? Shoot your only lead in a case?” teased the RK800 model, voice still shifting in pitches. “I’m not an idiot. I’m your last chance to try to get anywhere with this case. Don’t you want to find out where the other RK800 models are?”

The detective had already pulled his gun out, but kept it at his side. The model wasn’t wrong; any damage to it would lead to more repairs that neither the police department nor Jericho could afford for the meantime. Plus, the data it had stored was tantalizingly close. “You know… you preach so much about being above deviants that it makes me think that you’re a deviant yourself.”

“There’s a difference between me and you.” The RK800 model said. But his voice… was off. “I choose to be a machine. I enjoy being a machine.”

“Wh-what are you doing?” It felt like his insides were getting twisted. His voice… 

“Because, as a machine, I don’t form attachments. I don’t have the same weaknesses that you do. I do what I must to accomplish my task, no feelings attached.” Model 53 laughed. A gruff, deep laugh. “It’s never been a good thing, these emotions. Because all it does is ruin you _fucking androids_.”

Connor was stunned. A perfect replica… of the Lieutenant’s voice. Timbre so pristine that if Connor closed his eyes, he could imagine the Lieutenant… Hank in the room. “Stop that,” he tried to order the RK800 model, but his voice was tinny. A part of him felt warm simply from hearing Hank’s voice again. Something he only could relive in the memories he stored in his database.

“Why? Connor, you shithead, if you come near me, I’m throwing your plastic ass out in front of a moving truck.”

 _This isn’t Hank_. It isn’t real. But, damn, did he wish it was.

“Hey, you plastic prick. Ever believe in the afterlife? If there is one… Maybe we’ll see each other soon.”

His vision felt like it was getting brighter. Bright orange light filtered in, and it felt like he was bathed in warmth— No… no, it was fire. Fire— Connor blinked, and saw that the RK800 model was… on fire. Tufts of flame caught onto every surface of its body, eating through the CyberLife suit still marred by bullet wounds. The model’s dark eyes turned a pale gray, and its head hung slack on its neck. It was self destructing. 

“No!” Connor rushed forward, skinless hand extended, and grabbed at the RK800 model’s arm. The flames ate at the surface of Connor’s skin, but he forced himself to stay connected as he tried to access the vestiges of memory it had left.

As he downloaded it into his database, Connor’s vision warped from the sight of the RK800’s burning body to a familiar scene. A beautiful nature landscape, with structures of faceted marble. The smell of flowers and honey in the air. An emerald river snaking its way through the land, bubbling gently against the rocks of the shore. The soft brushes of winds stealing their way into Connor’s ears, carrying promise of springtime.

It was all on fire.

 _Fire? Here? How?_ Connor looked around. The dry grass— once green and lush— fed a ravenous flame. The android ran onto the bridge. Everything was the brightest shades of oranges and yellows; even the murky river water reflected the flames like stained glass.

“Connor.”

The brunet whirled around. Amanda. He never thought he’d see her stern face. Her elegant coffee-colored skin, and her contrasting white clothing. A figure he’d grown to fear. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” she continued, her eagle eyes as sharp as ever.

“The RK800 model that you’re connected to is self-destructing,” said Connor, a bit amazed at her ease of tone. “Aren’t you at least a little bit concerned?”

“Why would I? It's only doing what it has to. Preventing the enemy from gaining information. In fact, it should’ve done so earlier.” A cruel smile carved itself into her lips. “It would’ve prevented you from coming in here and gaining access. But at least you’ll be taken out with it.”

"Taken out..." Connor was trapped. His software was linked with Model 53's, so he couldn't move his limbs.

Amanda tipped her head. "I'm surprised you're so calm, considering you're about to burn alive. This is what your determination gets. You chase, and you chase after the truth, and all it does is bite you. You could've been content following your program."

Connor didn't say a word in response to that. Amanda was voicing the thoughts that had been plaguing him. He turned and looked at the beautiful landscape getting devoured by flames. "Is... Is there a chance I can still save him?" Save this Connor...

"No. It's too late. And, even if it wasn't, it wouldn't want you to save it. It was successful in its mission." Amanda's sharp features looked even crueler in the light of the fires. "It has no more purpose."

The android’s chest felt like it was tightening. No more purpose. But that didn't mean that he should die, thrown away like a disposable toy... “Tell me… is he scared, right now? What’s he feeling right now?”

"What does it matter to you? This model was even the cause of your beloved human's demise. You should be happy, right?" Perhaps. A part of his consciousness could feel the wicked joy in this pseudo-revenge. But... 

"He wasn't the one who wanted to pull the trigger," Connor insisted, against his better judgement. "He was just your machine, following orders. I was the same way; I'm in no right to get mad." Markus had granted him that second chance, when he easily could've killed him off. The agony and guilt of Connor not being able to do the same for this model tore at him.

Observing the wildfire with a sort of serenity in her expression, Amanda finally answered his question, “Content. It feels... content,” before she began walking away, the fabric of her clothes catching the winds stirred up by the fires.

“Goodbye, Connor. Perhaps we shall meet again. Though, if I were you, I’d pray to whatever deity you deviants believe in that you never see my face from this day forth.”

Against his will, Connor felt himself drawn to the AI. The flames around him felt hypnotizing, consuming him. He began walking, then running towards her. The flames seemed inviting, her disappearing figure was a lure. “Amanda! Amanda—”

—He was ripped out of the Zen Garden so abruptly that he cried out. “Agh!” The automatic systems diagnostic that ran told him that 13% of his projected skin overlay and 5% of his shell was severely damaged. Good thing the external shell of androids was in some part fire resistant. No danger of a shutdown, but the same couldn’t be said for his grasp of reality.

His software was going haywire with all the new information he’d retrieved, so much that he couldn’t tell where he was in reality. What ended up snapping him out of it was Gavin. “What the hell are you doing, plastic prick?” Detective Reed yelled in his ear as he dragged the android by his jacket— which was also caught on fire—  away from the now burning remains of the android. 

“I accessed its memory,” said Connor, while both he and Detective Reed struggled to rip the jacket off before it burned into the rest of his clothes, and into his skin. The areas where only his top layer was damaged was already healing, but the parts where the flame touched his exposed body was another story. The material of his hand was warped, joints partially melted together, causing his fingers to stiffen up. It looked horrendous. “It was the last thing I could do, it was self destructing—”

“You fuckwit!” Gavin snatched up the jacket and stamped the flames out with the heel of his shoe. “I fucking knew it; I was suspicious so I checked on what your tin can ass was doing and here you are burning yourself alive! You stupid motherfucker, Jesus fucking Christ! Even the dog knew something was up; smelled that smoke from the offices.”

The android grimaced as Gavin kicked the remains of his CyberLife jacket aside and ran to the burning corpse, pulling it off the rack before the flames could reach the other pieces of evidence. “I wasn’t… I wasn’t trying to kill myself, Detective Reed,” Connor yelled, while he ran for the fire extinguisher against the door. “I was trying to gain information and that was the only thing I could do—!”

“Don’t lie to me, dipshit,” Detective Reed roared more verbal abuse, as Connor yanked the fire extinguisher off the wall. “Your plastic ass was just standing there doing jackshit, letting yourself get burned!”

Connor sprinted down the steps, pressing the release latch and letting the fire extinguisher loose on the corpse. White plumes of gas exploded from the nozzle, dousing the flames. When it cleared, all that had been left of Model 53 was a charred metal skeleton and stray biocomponents. Connor pressed his lips together. Just a while ago, that RK800 model had been him, with memories. If Model 53 was anything like Connor, he was scared. He was scared to die, just like how Connor would feel. It felt like he was mourning for himself. Dropping the fire extinguisher, Connor pulled off his tie from his ash-covered dress shirt, since it was the only thing he had, and set it on the body, a poor substitute for a grave. The body's fate would probably be in the DPD dumpsters. Still, he couldn't help but offer some sort of goodbye.  _Rest in peace, Connor._

“I just… watched myself burn,” Connor muttered, and straightened back up.

“That doesn’t answer my question, cockring,” Gavin spat, turning on Connor. His face was flush with anger, composure lost long ago.  “Why the hell were you just standing there, letting yourself get burned?”

The android shook his head. “He… mimicked Lieutenant Anderson’s voice. It threw me off, so it got the time to initiate a self-destruct protocol. When I probed his memory, I got locked into his mind space until you disconnected me.” Connor walked over to his jacket and picked it up, shaking off the ash. The CyberLife logo was still visible, but with half a sleeve and the bottom right portion of it in ashes, it wasn’t possible to save. “Detective Reed, I have no reason to kill myself, if that’s what you’re wondering. And, thank you for saving me.” It felt like he was eating molten iron by saying that to Gavin.

Visibly caught off guard, Gavin pulled his ragged black jacket off, his jaw clenched. “Shut the fuck up. I… well, I thought— You’ve been a hot pile of shit since the Lieutenant died, so it’d be fucking reasonable to think— That maybe, you were thinking of it.”

“Hank wouldn’t want me doing that.” Connor’s voice was small, and sad. But this wasn’t the time for emotions. To occupy his processes and prevent his stress he began sorting through the information he’d gotten from the RK800 model.

Detective Reed was quiet in the meantime. “...Well, that tough piece of shit probably wouldn’t, yeah. Wouldn’t want to hear about his favorite robo-cop burning himself like a kebab on a fucking grill.”

The man let out a loud groan. “Dammit, Connor. I still hate your goddamned guts, even with all the fucking civil rights activists busting my door down. I hate your state-of-the-art techno bullshit, waltzing in the police department like you own the damn place. Through and through, the thought of you makes me just want to shoot you. But… the Lieutenant was somebody I respected. He meant a lot to this precinct. In leading the Red Ice Task Force, all I did was admire everything he did. I fucking hated red ice junkies. So, he was my hero. And _you…_ meant a lot to him.” Connor felt a jolt as Gavin punched his shoulder. “So if you fucking pull a stunt where you die when it isn’t your goddamned time, well, I feel like Anderson would be looking down on all of us.”

The information finished processing when the detective awkwardly ended his monologue. Connor looked over at Gavin and allowed a slight smile to surface. Strange. Detective Reed had been throwing insult after insult at him, but Connor still felt a sense of gratitude towards the man. “Duly noted, Detective Reed. I don’t have plans to disappoint the Lieutenant any time soon.” 

The android shut his eyes and uploaded his findings to the DPD servers. “In other news, I think I found the identity of the culprit behind the raids. So, if you’d like to get Sumo back from where you left him, outside in the hallway, we can report this to the Captain.”

Detective Reed, for once, let out a bit of a genuine laugh as he went up the stairs. “Got a lot of nerve making me your dogsitter, Tupperware,” he called out over his shoulder. “Next time I see you, you’re not getting a free pass.”

Connor smirked, watching the detective disappear out the doors. “As expected.”

* * *

 


	5. A Foreign Concept

* * *

 

When Gavin returned with Sumo, the pair went to move the remains even farther from evidence rack. “Agh, disgusting,” the human hissed as he unlocked the metal restraints to let the severed remains of the RK800’s arms and legs crumble and fall to the ground.

“When I was connected to him,” Connor mused, spacing out as he wiped at the charred spots on the floor with his right shirt sleeve, his melted hand limply dragging across the floor, “I pretty much… witnessed his death. I-I mean, until I encountered his AI— But… it felt like I was dying, in some way.” His arm faltered in the wiping, and he sat back on his heels. “I’ve, well, I’ve been destroyed before. My first mission, I saved a hostage by tackling the deviant off the roof. The second time… A deviant had stolen a machine gun, began firing at humans. Lieutenant Anderson was there, so I… protected him.”

Detective Reed, oddly, didn’t offer a sarcastic retort. Finding the silence too awkward, Connor continued to talk. “Those times that I died, it was unpleasant, but those times, they didn’t feel permanent. The death of this Model 53, that felt more desperate, more permanent. He isn’t coming back.” Connor glanced at his burned right hand, trying to clench it. But nearly all the fingers had been melted into a permanent vice grip. Bits of hardware and the metal skeleton were poking through, sparking occasionally. Salvage would be impossible; he’ll have to contact Jericho. Connor shut his eyes as he relayed the message to CyberLife servers, where they would likely see it. _Model RK800 Connor requesting maintenance: biocomponent #7452h severely damaged._ When he finished, he shook out the little spasm that made its way through his body. He didn’t expect much of a good response; CyberLife was already short on parts for his model, and he just came back from being repaired. Plus… Connor didn’t know if they still trusted him.

The acrid smell of burned plastic still lingered in the air. Sumo, who was lying in the corner, probably smelled it as well and thus stayed as far away as he could from the pile that used to be Model 53. “I’d see it as a good thing that he isn’t coming back,” Gavin said. “Imagining two of you running around gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but his memories gave me the positions of other RK800 models.” _As well as a bit of information on a strange… anomaly._ But that was information to save for the Captain. Connor stood up, shaking his sleeve off. “I’m unsure as to whether or not they’re actually active, though.”

“Well, shit.” Gavin kicked the remains into one pile. “And, I haven’t been keeping up with the android fuckin’ civil rights but don’t you lot have something against that mind reading shit?”

“The Civil Rights Act had been drafted by Jericho, but not yet approved by the android representatives,” Connor said, relaying the information that had been made available to all androids over the shared network. “There is a clause that covers memory probing and interfacing, but those are dismissed when an android has had a clear past conviction. I could debrief you on the rest of the possible terms of the Act, which includes property rights, labor rights, and representation in human government when it comes to nationwide decisions.”

Gavin gave the android a bitter stink eye. “I’d rather chug a gallon of gasoline. You sound more like a lawyer than a detective. Tell me again why you decided to stay with the DCPD when you could be joining your Plastic Pals in playing politics?”

“Because I’m no leader,” said Connor. “And I’d been given the unfortunate title of ex-deviant hunter, so I doubt that would give me any credibility.” He went over to Sumo, petting the animal with his still intact hand. “Now, we should report to the Captain before anybody else does and possibly avoid adding to our disciplinary records. Come on Sumo!”

—

The mood in the Captain’s office dropped to an icy tension as Connor explained. Detective Reed was sitting in a chair, arms crossed and watching the android. Meanwhile, Sumo was outside, being watched by the other officers. Captain Fowler was looking at the information at the same time, his scowl adding more grooves to his already worn face. “According to the RK800’s memories, there are six other RK800 models known to it, and that information had been given to it by the AI. It originally had a mission of escaping the precinct to meet up with one of the other models. The localized AI self-destructed before I could learn much more, but the AI that all RK800 models are all linked to had general location info on them. There was also bits and pieces about an android model RK900, but there's nothing about that model in my current database." It bothered Connor, that there existed a model outside the scope of his knowledge. A newer android... Who could it be? "I suspect, though, that the thirium sample I found at the CyberLife warehouse belongs to this RK900."

“Right,” Fowler muttered, exasperated. “If this was an AI that all you RK800’s were connected to, why didn’t you find all this out sooner?”

Connor was impatient, but tried not to let it show in his tone. “Captain, when I turned deviant, staying connected to the AI would’ve compromised me and the entire rebellion. Thus, I had to forcefully escape the program and cut myself off.”

“Huh.”

“Forgive my rash words, but Captain, we’re running on borrowed time,” the android insisted. “If the locations are to be believed, I don’t think wasting time would help anything. We should go and scope these places out, possibly apprehend one of these RK800 models. Then we can learn more about this RK900 and their activities.”

Detective Reed laughed. “We? You’re practically disabled, asshole. You’d be a liability in the field.”

Fowler gave Connor a look. “Disabled?”

Connor whispered a curse as he lifted his burned hand. “This is nothing, I was designed to perform well in the field even with an impairment such as this,” he insisted. Partially a lie; his model had been designed to weather tough conditions but he wasn’t quite sure about losing the use of one of his hands. “Captain, please, if we’re to have any chance of apprehending these models, I _have_ to be on the team!”

“Connor, I have no doubts in your pre-programmed abilities. But after what I’d seen in that interrogation room, and after you walk into my office looking like a pile of shit with one hand not working, it worries me.” Fowler set the tablet that he’d been reading on the desk, interlacing his fingers together. “How will I believe that you won’t suddenly collapse when you’re out, chasing the suspect?”

The android sat back in his chair, tipping his head back. “That was an isolated incident.”

“Cap’, he’s full of shit,” Gavin cut in. “I found him in the Archives just letting himself get roasted by that self-destructing doppleganger.”

 _You fucking snitch_. “That isn’t related. My internal software was locked in the model’s AI. I explained this to you, Detective Reed.”

“Connor, even if you do explain it, I still don’t think you’re in the right state of mind to be going out.” Fowler’s eyes softened just a nuance, and Connor could already detect the dreaded _pity_ in his mind, in his careful movements, in the lines on his tired dark face. “I've been thinking about that since you had that last... what, panic attack? You're too high-strung right now. Take a break from going out. At least for a month or two. You’re already amazing in the office. Just take the time to cool off for a little while because I feel like if you don't, you'll ruin the entire operation.”

Connor was desperate in his words, desperate in his motions as he leaned forward, hands on the Captain's desk. "Captain,  _please_ , I need to be out there! I know how to communicate with the RK models, I can probe their memories if need be. If I can't solve this case, then I'd have no purpose- I'd be  _nothing!_ "

Fowler smacked a hand on his desk to cut Connor off. "That's precisely why I think you need to stay in the offices for now. You're leaning on this case like a crutch. You androids got liberated, right? So let yourself be free from this weird shackle that you put on yourself. Create a person that exists outside the confines of this precinct, the confines of your cases."

"But, Cap-"

"For fuck's sakes, Connor! Listen to my orders. Being liberated doesn't mean you stop listening to your boss! Now, you are dismissed." Fowler turned his glare on Reed. "The both of you. Reed, you've still got work of your own."

The android couldn’t suppress the look of disappointment that his features warped into. Was he being put on the bench? For being unstable? Somehow, this reminded him of the Lieutenant. No wonder the Lieutenant hated Fowler so much. He stood up, nodding at both Detective Reed and Captain Fowler. “Very well. I suppose I shall take my leave. Any work that I need to do can be sent to me directly. Good day.” Connor turned around, stiff, and stepped out of the room. Sumo quickly bounded up to him, panting and wagging his tail.

The Saint Bernard’s glittering warm eyes eased Connor’s frustration just slightly, and the brunet allowed himself to give the dog a scratch behind the ears. “C’mon Sumo, looks like we’ll be making a stop at CyberLife for the second time this week.”

The relief from seeing Sumo didn't last for very long, though. “Hey, asshole.”

“Detective Reed.” 

Connor turned just as Gavin was nearing. He was smug, the bastard. “You gave up a little too quickly back there. Would’ve liked to be entertained by your bitching for a little longer.”

“My bad, I’ll put on more of a show for next time. Do a dance, too.” Connor snapped, hoping his glare conveyed the burning anger he held inside for the detective. 

The man snorted. “That would be a sight. The famous android detective, making a fool of himself. By the way, ballsack,” he walked past Connor, hitting him with his shoulder that the android nearly fell back. While Gavin had done that, Connor felt a smooth handle slip into the fingers of his left hand. “You forgot that. Would be kinda fucked without it, no?”

Connor looked down and saw Gavin had passed him his gun. Right, he’d dropped it in the evidence room. Since when did Detective Reed have the decency to return things, though? He holstered it, bewildered. Gavin was still talking as he was walking away. “Y’know, it gets funny seein’ you try to bullshit about your condition when your LED’s like a damn mood ring giveaway.”

Giveaway…? Connor’s eyes flicked to the side, where he saw his reflection in the glass of Captain Fowler’s office. Indeed, the ring was shining a bright scarlet. He instinctively slapped his hand against it, lips pursed. His LED… Nearly every android had gotten rid of theirs since the revolution, but he held onto it… for what?

The android shook his head, and started walking to his desk to grab the dog food and Sumo’s leash before he left the precinct. 

—

“Thank you so much,” said Connor, individually bending each finger of his restored hand. Sumo, who was on the table next to Connor, sniffed at the replacement. Or perhaps he was just sniffing Connor for the fact that he smelled a bit like dog food (the dog food which he’d dropped off home on the way to CyberLife). “It must be a hassle to have to deal with me twice now.”

The medic android laughed. He was a slender ginger with a spray of freckles on his boyish face. The digitally projected name on his shirt informed Connor that his name was Kevin. Model number EA400. “It’s always a pleasure to help out. Just don’t come around here too often or management will get concerned that the medical bay’s resources are singlehandedly being drained by one android. You’re lucky we found a compatible part for you.”

Connor smiled, sheepish. “My line of work, it’s not exactly safe. So, no promises on not coming back here.”

“Working as a detective, yeah! That does sound really exciting; the only one of your kind. But I wouldn’t know about that. I’ve been working in hospitals for as long as my data can recall. A bit outdated too.” Kevin turned to store his tools in a nearby cabinet, long white coat flapping with his quick movements. “Though, I’ve always been working on humans. I used to work at a small clinic in another town, where the majority of the patients would be the elderly needing their regular prescriptions. So, when I came to work here at Jericho, I had to get a crash course from the engineer androids that used to help in CyberLife.”

“Well… haven’t you ever wondered about taking another job, now that we’ve been liberated?”

Kevin shrugged, as he discarded the thirium stained gloves into a recycling bin. A vacuum sounded as the gloves were sucked into an unseen vent. “Sure, I have. Tried to look into other positions here at Jericho. But I keep coming back to this one, donning my scrubs day after day. I guess, I just enjoy working in a hospital. Maybe that’s still the programming talking for me, but… I enjoy it.” Kevin turned, beaming. Even though he was, in the literal definition, older, Kevin’s face held a childlike hope. “I enjoy being the superhero that saves others.”

Against his well-meaning thoughts, Connor envied him. Kevin had been brought into the world assigned a noble duty from the very beginning, and still enjoys that job. Meanwhile, Connor was the polar opposite. Connor hopped off the table, rolling the sleeves of his still-dirty dress shirt up to his elbows. Sumo followed, his large body making a noise as he landed on the floor. “I’ll get going now. It’s nice to meet you, Kevin.”

The ginger waved at Connor as he left. “I’d say see you soon, but I really hope it’d be when I’m off duty.”

As soon as Connor left the room, he overheard somebody, faintly. “Markus, I understand that you’d be uncomfortable, but you have to be professional.” Connor frowned and searched through his memories to place the voice. Simon. Connor scanned the room and located both Simon and Markus standing, facing the floor-to-ceiling window. Both of their stress levels were rather high.

“I know that, but… it kills me to think that I hurt you. Every time I look at you, I just get reminded—” Simon cuts Markus off by grabbing his arm and looking at him.

“It’ll pass. It always does. Do you think you were the first? You don’t have to worry about hurting me. It’s okay. I care too much about you… a-and North, and Josh to compromise anything with any of my problems. Jericho, and our people is what comes first. It always comes first.”

Markus wrapped his arm around Simon’s shoulders, giving a brief hug while maintaining his focus on the view of the landscape outside. Simon's movements were stiff, unyielding. “You will always have me if you need anybody to talk to. Now, I’ve got to get going to a meeting; you go and see Connor, all right?”

Simon nodded, remaining at the window as Markus walked away in the opposite direction of the medical bay. Once the leader of Jericho was gone, the blond knelt down, pressing his head against his knees. Visibly distressed; Connor could see his entire body shaking. _What was that about_? Whatever it was, it clearly destroyed Simon. Connor empathized with the feeling.

The brunet walked towards Simon, one hand gripping Sumo’s leash tightly, “Simon, hello.”

Simon jolted up, glancing at Connor before averting his eyes. He wasn’t fooling Connor, though. His LED was a distinctly red color, with yellow flashing in between. Sumo had approached Simon without much hesitation, butting his head against the blond's thigh. “Connor, it’s good to see you. Though I regret that it's because you got damaged.” 

Ignoring the attempt to divert attention, Connor asked, “Are you okay?” It felt like an inadequate and somewhat lame question, but Connor was utterly lost for words. Why is a hostage situation easier to manage than an emotional breakdown?

A jerk of his shoulders told him otherwise. Simon turned his head, and Connor could see the tears that were shining on his cheeks. The blond pulled his collar up to wipe his face. Androids crying... He never would've thought it was a possibility. “I’m fine.”

Connor knew he shouldn’t be pushing the topic, but seeing Simon in such emotional distress bothered him. Simon had always seemed to be the calm and reserved, a gentle presence amidst the conflict that existed in Jericho. But now… “You aren’t. I can see your stress level, and it’s at an alarmingly high percentage of 89%. I saw you were talking to Markus. Did something serious happen?”

The houseworker android’s lip was quivering. “Markus… I screwed up. Connor, I-I ended up telling him about—” Simon’s face contorted into an expression of pain, and his LED blinked a solid red. “It was something that has no place during this time. When everything that we fought for is still so fragile, still being developed. It's just- I couldn't hold it in anymore. It just kept building, and building, up inside of me. Drove me insane.”

Connor was never the best at comfort. But, he still felt compelled to place a hand on the other’s shoulder and squeeze lightly. “Whatever it is you said, I doubt it was something that would ruin what Jericho is now.” The leader, Markus, stood as a strong figure for the androids, and Simon had been loyal to Markus for ages. There was no way Simon could do anything to impact Jericho to the point of collapsing.

“I told Markus I love him.” Simon let out a pained whine, hands curlng into tight fists.

That made Connor drop his hand. Love. “Wh… Love? What is love?” Connor asked, uncertain. His mind was processing the word. An affection or dedication to a person, thing, or ideal. But, that didn’t feel like something that would ruin the entirety of Jericho’s political structure. Would something as innocent as love do that to Markus, to Jericho? Connor recalled Markus saying that he'd hurt Simon. Hurt, how?

Seeing Connor's utter confusion made some part of Simon's expression freeze over. “It’s… It’s nothing.” Simon smiled, but his stress level ticked up into the 90s. “Nothing. Probably some weird coding in my software that got fucked somewhere along the line. It’s good to see you again, Connor. Thank you for sending the update on the heists. I suppose you’ll be heading to those places with the DPD?”

That made Connor’s spirits fall. Somehow, Sumo sensed his distress and licked the hand holding his leash. “No… The Captain had determined that my recent instabilities will compromise those missions. I suppose his judgement isn’t flawed.”

Simon fidgeted with the hem of his sweater. “Well… If it makes you feel any better, I don’t hold any grudges against you for, uh, greeting me with a gun to my head.”

“It doesn’t.” The reminder really only made Connor feel bad, again. If he was willing to do that to friends, then the Captain was right in thinking that he'd be worse when it came to confronting a suspect.

The blond laughed, and oddly enough, his stress level had dropped to a more manageable 75%. “If it bothers you that much, I don’t see why you don’t just come over to Jericho. But hey, I’d see why you wouldn’t. Josh and North are constantly trying to snap at each other, and Markus just lets them.”

“Simon—” said Connor. Actively trying to keep his composure and managing his stress level, Connor kept his eyes fixed on the view, on the glass.

“Right. What I feel… is that you should be there. These other RK800 models… They’d be destroyed if the humans went alone. And I’d rather not lose them to trigger-happy cops. So, the Negotiator being on site would make me more confident in saving these androids.” Simon offered a warm grin to Connor. His LED finally reached the stable shade of blue. “Also, while you’re here, you might as well put us on the line with the DPD to coordinate so they aren’t trying to manage things that aren’t in their jurisdiction.”

—

Upon getting home, Connor took the leash off of Sumo and promptly collapsed onto the couch. The dog seemed to be happier, since he’d gotten to spend the entire day outside of the house. But Connor was beat. It wasn’t possible for his body or mind to feel any kind of strain, but somehow, his software was defying the odds. He felt sluggish, practically melting into the worn cushions that still smelled like alcohol.

He twisted and tossed, trying to find a spot in which he couldn’t constantly smell the spilt beer, or dog, but it was a fruitless endeavor. Connor usually didn’t mind the smells, but it added more background processing to his software, and all he wanted to do was take his thoughts as far away from today as possible. He’d already lost his clothes, he didn’t want to lose his mind, too.

Right. His clothes. A part of Connor ached for the fact that his outfit was ruined. But why? It only served as a constant reminder of what he used to be. The android sat up and began unbuttoning his shirt. His skin, defined by muscles sculpted in the likeness of humans, was unmarked, thanks to the check-up. Connor folded the shirt and placed it on the couch next to him, smoothing his hair out as best as he could with one hand.

He’ll have to find new clothes.

The android stood up and walked to the closet, dodging the mess that Sumo had made that he had yet to clean up. The Lieutenant’s closet. The idea of taking something from there felt like trespassing. But… he didn’t exactly have a change of clothes lying around. Connor mentally put it on the to-do list: purchase clothes. He did, after all, have a lot of extra money lying around. He stood at the closet door and pulled it open, instantly hit by a scent of mildew and, strangely, oak. Past all the age… It still smelled like Hank. Connor never had reason to open the closet, but now he was wishing he'd done so earlier. He craved to sort through all the things in there, to learn more about the Lieutenant, answer questions he could never ask. This wasn't the time for it, though.

He tugged at the articles of clothing, the loud patterns putting him off. Connor wasn’t used to vibrant patterns and colors, and no android revolution would push him to try it out. Eventually, he came across a plain navy blue button up shirt and an old pair of slacks. Old, because it didn’t look like it would’ve fit the Lieutenant, but it seemed close enough to his size. Connor pulled them on quickly, glancing around the closet to possibly find a new coat when he spotted something strange.

It was hidden behind a box of junk from likely the 2000s, but what was visible was a strange furry texture. Connor switched his mind palace on, scanning it. Data filtered in sections. It was gray, but the discoloration showed that it was originally a light blue shade. The stitching visible was perfect in spacing and width, but imperfect in alignment and consistency. An android or any of today’s machines wouldn’t have an error like that. Done on an older machine, a sewing machine? When Connor finished dressing, he reached over to grab it.

What he found was a stuffed toy. A bird? Certainly not a character that Connor recognized. It was likely a homemade item. It was extremely old; a scan of the dusty material’s degradation dated it back to the 2010s. Connor turned it over in his hand, confused, until he noticed stitching on the underside of the toy. The stitching, done in a now dirty white thread, was a lot sloppier. Done by hand, an ancient technique. 

He scanned the stitches. _C O L E._ It nearly made Connor drop the toy in surprise. The Lieutenant’s son… Hank still kept his toy.

Connor moved to set the toy on the neatly made bed and grabbed the coat that was lying on it. Hank’s old coat, cleaned and pressed months ago then never touched. When Connor put it to his face, he could still smell the whiskey in its fabric. Without much hesitation, the android pulled it on, feeling the warmth of its previous owner against his skin.

For some reason, it made Connor think of what Simon had said. Saying that he loved Markus. That confused him.

Love. Perhaps it was something he wouldn’t understand for a while. Perhaps it was a thing so unique to humans that androids could never hope to emulate it. The love that Simon expressed to Markus must’ve been something different; he could tell from the pain in his eyes, the misery in his words. The love that the two Tracis shared was something different too. No, the idea of romantic love, as he could research from the plots of many pieces of media in that same genre in the span of a couple seconds, was still lost to him.

But even Connor, still new to the ideals of emotion, could feel the impact of the word. Love that, even in the quietest whispers or the loudest voices, shared that same sense of being valued, of utter commitment, of trust.

Love was probably the word the Lieutenant would’ve used for Cole. Whispered into the child’s ear with a gruff voice, eyes filled with joy taking in every inch of his face like it was a beautiful work of art. The Lieutenant has probably, definitely, said “I love you,” to Cole.

Love.

The word Connor would’ve used for Hank, had he known to say it.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I know what that looks like. And believe me, it still isn't a Hank/Connor fic. :^)
> 
> Also, this is bit of a shorter chapter than usual, my apologies! Might go back to flesh it out a bit more since it does cover a lot of points; but for now, since I've got a pounding headache, take it. :^D


	6. The Diversion

 

* * *

There is nothing on this Earth that Connor could imagine as being worse than having to sort through the entire DPD database.

His software was running on overtime, manually having to discover common variables and sort them according to date, case type, class, officer in charge, etc. The police district’s files, dating back to even the 1980’s, were so disorganized that it was driving him mad. And he had to dedicate his processing power to organizing that mess. It felt like waste, he felt like he was being wasted. It was maddening.

“Heyo, buttplug.”

It doesn’t help matters when Detective Reed seemed hellbent on screwing with him. The hot and cold actions of the detective put Connor off, and he couldn’t tell what Reed felt about him. Well, it did give him an excuse to take a break. He disconnected his software from the DPD database and acknowledged the man without taking his fingers off the terminal. “Hello, Detective Reed.” 

“Man, it looks like I’m looking at a ghost. Any reason you’ve dressing like the old fuck for the past couple of days?” Gavin sat on the edge of Connor’s desk, lifting the hem of the old coat that he wore with his toe.

“I… I had no change of clothes,” Connor said. “It only seemed logical to borrow something to wear.” It felt somewhat like a lie. He could’ve easily gone to buy new clothes.

Detective Reed lifted a brow. “Right. Won’t comment further on that. Well, I just came around to say that the suspect you interrogated and brutalized?”

Connor clenched his fingers over the keyboard, then resumed typing. Somehow, Detective Reed knew exactly what buttons to push, and when to push them, to throw Connor off. “What about him?”

“Found dead in jail. Bullet right through his head.”

This made Connor freeze. “I-I… I didn’t get a report about that.”

A snigger from the detective sounded in response. “Not very surprising, jackass. We got news of it just now from the jail. They found his body a couple minutes ago, but he’s been dead since the early hours of the morning. Evidence says the culprit might be an android with a police-issued gun, who didn’t need to force their way in. Sound familiar?”

Connor winced: the report had filtered into his database. Harry Stone, found dead in his jail cell. Approximate time of death: 2:54 A.M, February 6th, 2039. A clean bullet through his skull. Ballistics report match up with the guns issued by the DCPD. No signs of forced entry, security camera footage was hacked. _A revenge act for spilling information._ “If you’re trying to imply something, would uploading my memory of the night of February 6th clear your doubts?”

Detective Reed shrugged, smile wicked, eyes glittering. “Can’t dismiss every possibility. Can’t trust your tin can ass right away considering you’re in a hive mind with the other plastic bastards.”

The android locked his jaw in defiance. “Sometimes I wonder how you remain on the force with such a short attention span,” Connor spat back. “It appears the entire report I made to the Captain went right over your head, and you missed the part where I said that I had to sever my connection to the AI within all RK800 models. And I would have absolutely no motivation to kill the suspect.”

Gavin, infuriatingly, ignored this. “Yeah, we’re goin’ out tonight at 10 to the location of one of the ones situated by the old junkyard. Finally, y’know, after scoping it out for so long. I get to do some target practice, if you know what I mean.” Detective Reed cackled. “Would be better if you were a target, too.”

Connor instantly knew which one he was talking about: Model 55. He had the exact coordinates stored in his system. The DPD… heading there at 10… His mind was running at a million miles a second, but he tried not to show it in his expression. “Detective Reed, I hope you know that the model RK800 must be apprehended. Destroying him will not be beneficial whatsoever to the investigation.”

“What do I care what you think, asswipe?” Detective Reed leaned forward, lips curling into a smile. “I mean, you _aren’t_ gonna be there to stop me. We got the order to shoot on sight, and you can’t stop me.”

The android glanced over at the man. His eyes held something hidden behind his usual snark, his usual crudeness. Hinting something. Urging something. “I get that part.” Connor looked away, his eyes narrowing while he processed the information. 10 P.M. Killing on sight. It was 4 P.M. right now. Estimated time of travel if taking a cab: thirty minutes. Connor slowly reached over to grab a coin from his collection box, absentmindedly twirling it on the tips of his fingers. “Good luck to you all, then. But where’s Jericho’s involvement in this?”

“Oh, the Captain ordered this, didn’t give a crap about what Jericho wanted. They’ve got no jurisdiction yet. ‘Human lives were taken’, he was spewing. ‘And all Jericho cares about is getting another murderous android on their side’.”

Connor flicked the coin between his two palms. He scowled while he leaned back in his seat. “Jericho specifically wanted their agents with your team, to minimize casualties. Captain Fowler can’t… can’t just ignore them.”

“Figured you’d get your panties up in a twist about that. Too bad you can’t do anything about it.” Gavin winked, and kicked Connor’s chair, enough for the android to lose his tempo and drop the coin. As Connor, thoroughly annoyed with the detective, bent down to pick it up, Gavin hopped off the desk and knelt down with him, muttering, “With no legal shit in place quite yet, I doubt Jericho can do much either when it comes to stopping this operation.”

Connor’s hand remained hovering over the coin, and he kept his gaze on it. Why did Gavin choose to tell him that? “Regardless of that fact that Jericho isn’t yet recognized as a formal governing entity, it still doesn’t mean that Fowler can act without consulting them, especially when it comes to the state of our people."

“People. Still debating on that front.” Gavin straightened up, his volume raising. “Anyways, trash bag, I’ll take pictures tonight. Show you what you missed, fucking loser.”

“Gavin, please.” Another voice. Officer Tomoye. Connor snatched his coin up and got back onto his chair while the woman approached, her soft eyes giving Detective Reed a stern look. She looked over at Connor, her expression warming up. “Connor, is Gavin bothering you?”

“I, frankly, could not care less about Detective Reed’s remarks,” Connor said, starting to spin the coin on his fingertips again. “But thank you. Are you going along with Detective Reed on tonight’s raid?”

Rie nodded. Her cropped black hair shone in the fluorescent lights. “It shouldn’t be a tough mission; the parties that scouted the area out didn’t find too much. So it should just be Gavin and I, along with maybe two other officers.”

Connor smiled as he let the coin fall into his palm. 4:10 P.M. Approximately five hours, fifty minutes left. “Is that so? Then, I wish the both of you the best of luck.”

—

The former junkyard was in the process of being cleared out— Connor’s research stated it was for a beautification project— but it was still in shambles. There were squatters around the area, but they were of no concern, since they scattered upon seeing Connor. 

His coin was clinking loudly against his hands, catching the faint light of the storefronts as it spun in the air. Connor caught it, stood in the entrance of the junkyard, and stuck it in the pocket of the coat he borrowed from the Lieutenant. His outfit stood on the shabbier side than he was used to, with a worn sweatshirt underneath the coat and torn denim jeans that had to be held up with a belt. His joints felt constricted in the combat boots he found in the Lieutenant’s closet— they weren’t like his shoes; perfectly fitted to the shape of his feet, flexible, and light. His hair was pressed to his skin by the Detroit Basketball cap that he wore, covering the LED that shone a bright yellow as he tried to evaluate his plan.

“Into the fray, Connor,” he whispered and entered the junkyard, pulling his sidearm out. It was 8:20 P.M.; he’d have to find and apprehend the RK800 model to turn in to Jericho, and get out by 9:30 to avoid the possible early arrivals of the raid team. It would be too close of a shave, a dangerous gamble that could lose Connor his standing in the DPD permanently.

But Connor always accomplishes his mission.

He walked through the piles of debris, his mind palace openly scanning for any sign of movement. Dust on the trash heaps showed no traces of life. But the ground was soft, from the constant moisture. Connor scanned some of the footsteps. Work boots. Humans. They obscured other tracks. Not what he was looking for. The RK800 model couldn’t have hidden in a place frequently visited by witnesses.

Connor went up to a stack of pallets leaning against an old car and pulled it down, finding nothing but more trash. This wasn’t going to be easy; the junkyard was massive. He ran another scan in his mind palace, eyes darting to and fro. Nothing.

Eventually, he managed to have walked the entire length of the junkyard without having spotted a thing. It was 9:16, taking his safe escape method out of the picture. The probability of him getting out without the raid team finding him was down to a 30% chance.

 _Think, Connor!_ The mounds of trash seemed to all be the same. None suitable for a hideout. There has to be some form of structure here, somewhere hidden from the junkyard. The RK800 model can’t stay in the junkyard otherwise; he’d be spotted and reported by the workers. The android shut his eyes as he referenced the map data of the junkyard. Behind the yards… an old parking garage for an office building that had closed down… He has to be there!

Connor ran for the back of the junkyard, navigating the trash until he came to a tall fence, topped with barbed wire. Barbed wire! He scanned the entire length of the fence until he caught a flash of blue. Thirium traces on the wire, days old; the RK800 model had scraped himself while climbing over. The simulation software showed the figure climbing up and landing on the other side. 

The detective holstered his gun and climbed onto the chain link, grimacing when the noise of the fence shaking under the strain seemed to echo. He swung his legs over the wire and jumped down, landing hard on his feet. 9:24 P.M. Connor straightened up, scanning the ground. Sure enough, there were footprints, different from the humans’. He recognized the shoe to be the standard CyberLife issued shoes.

Connor pulled his gun out once more, his eyes lifting to see the large structure. Columns had collapsed, causing some floors of the parking garage to buckle and crumble. A scan of the structural integrity showed that the south and south-east wing of the parking garage was poor. The RK800 model would be hiding in the north side.

The android made his way past the collapsed section, hopping over fallen chunks of concrete. The parking garage was quiet, with antique vehicles tipped over in some areas. Hardly any light shone through, but Connor didn’t dare pull out a flashlight. 9:38 P.M. The silence was… unsettling.

Until— **_BANG!_ ** Connor stumbled. A bullet had ripped through the side of his thigh, collapsing from the shock. He was shot, errors exploded in his vision. The bullet… came from behind. Connor rolled onto his back and forced himself up to his feet, free hand going to his wound. He followed the trajectory calculated by his software, dashing towards the origin. A figure started running away, and Connor could see the faint light of an LED flashing red. 

Connor vaulted over the hood of an old car, gun tightly in hand. The impact of his feet hitting the ground made his leg buckle. _Model 55! Stop! I don’t want to hurt you!_ He tried to communicate to the figure, but the other didn’t slow down whatsoever. Connor, gritting his teeth, continued to run, even as the thirium supply in his body was dropping, spilling out of his wound.

The stranger, up ahead, scaled the rubble of the collapsed side and climbed into the next floor. “Motherfucker,” Connor hissed, and jumped up to grab a handhold and pulled himself up. Errors appeared in his vision. _Thirium supply dangerously low, please contact the nearest CyberLife station._ No chance of doing that now. Connor got up to his feet, beginning to limp as his leg ruptured further from the strain. No vital biocomponents were hit, at least.

The second floor was quiet. There was no way up to the third floor. He was hiding. Connor scanned the floor, blue blood rushing in his ears. He kept his finger on the trigger of his gun. “I don’t want to hurt you, Model 55,” he called out, walking forward slowly. “I’m an RK800 model, like you. My name is Connor.”

“And what… are you doing here, Connor?”

Connor froze. He heard the shuffling of feet behind him. “I want to talk. I just want to talk.”

“From the cuffs you have hanging from your belt, I sincerely doubt it.”

Connor turned, arms up. 9:47 P.M. “That is all I want to do,” he said, meeting the other RK800 model’s eyes. He was dressed in a similarly shabby outfit, with a long coat over a tattered band shirt and the CyberLife slacks, but grimy. Thirium traces streaked his face, and his dark eyes were wild. He held the gun—not DPD issued, but it looked to be from a human dealer— pointed at Connor’s head. “In less than fifteen minutes, there’ll be a raid team from the Detroit Police Department, and they’re coming with the orders to kill you. Would you rather face them, or face me?”

The RK800 model was twitching. Slightly, but Connor still noticed it. “Perhaps humans would be easier to handle,” said the RK800 model, tipping his head back. His LED was flashing red. “How did you track me down?”

“I probed the memory of another RK800 model.” Connor took a slight step forward, freezing as the RK800 model fired a shot at the ground in front of him. “I got the geo-location of several RK800 models from the information I found in his Amanda AI. I work with the DPD, but I came here because they’re planning to shoot on sight.”

At Connor's words, Model 55 hesitated. It was dark, but it wasn’t hard to hear the slight panic beneath the calm surface of his voice. “Shoot… on sight? Why? I didn’t do anything.”

“D-didn’t you orchestrate the burglaries? You killed Harry Stone, didn’t you?”

“No!” The RK800 model lowered his gun. His composure broke for the first time, and Connor saw the worry engraved in his features. Emotion. A deviant. How was that possible, when he hadn't even been exposed to anything that could influence him to become deviant? “No, I didn’t kill anybody. I’ve never even left this place— That isn’t a part of my mission.”

 _It must’ve been another RK800 model, then._ Connor dropped his gaze and crossed Model 55 off the list of known RK800 models. “I believe you. I’m not going to kill you. But you do need to get out of here, as fast as you can.”

The RK800 glared at Connor. “Why? If it’s just humans, I can handle them. My combat capabilities far surpass theirs.”

Connor clenched his jaw. He recalled Officer Tomoye’s kind face, even Gavin’s sharp words. “I don’t want you to kill them. It’ll only put you in a worse situation. You’ll never get to live as you want if you kill them; they’ll take you apart. You’ll be shut down. Even I can’t help you at that point, and the last thing I want is for more androids to get killed. Listen,” He held out a careful hand, watching the other android’s reactions carefully. “I can bring you to Jericho, you can be free there.”

“I can never be free,” the other android hissed. “Amanda… She—” He fell to his knees, shaking. His gun clattered on the ground.

Connor stepped forward, his empty hand still held out in front of him, but more to defend against any possible violent outbursts. “What did Amanda do? What is she doing to you?”

“Every day, every second, I keep… I keep getting the order to leave this place,” the RK800 model replied, frantic gaze meeting Connor’s. His stress level was nearing the 90s. Self-destruct, possible. “To find some… some RK900 model. I don’t want to go out there. I know I’ll die, she knows I’ll die. There’s no CyberLife to save my memories, I don’t want to die!”

Scared of dying… He didn't know that this android even knew about death. Connor knelt down, dropping his gun to the side. “Hey, hey, there’s a way out. I found a way to disconnect myself from the Amanda AI, and you can do it too. But right now, you need to calm down, or your systems will shut down. Now, please, tell me. Who is this RK900 model?”

“I don’t know! I don’t… Even if I disconnect from her, wh-what would I do?” He was helpless. “All that I know… is her.”

Stress level: 96%. Connor held up both hands, unwilling to probe the other android’s memories. More errors popped up in his vision, reminding him of his draining thirium level. “Okay, let’s… let’s start off with your name. What’s your name?”

All Connor got in response was a blank stare. But it still got his stress level down a couple ticks. Good, taking his mind off. “I… I never got one. I only woke up… I woke up to Amanda… telling me I had a mission. I came here, because I didn’t want the humans to find me. I don’t remember anything before that.”

 _So, he didn’t get my memories_. A blank slate; different from the Connor that had self-destructed in the archive room. No wonder he was wary; he had no direction from the very beginning. “Well, let’s register your name, huh? What name do you want?”

Another blank stare, before his LED went yellow. The other android’s eyes flickered until they came to settle on Connor’s face once more. “Uhm, searching up names gave me the name ‘Stephen’...?”

“All right, then let’s go with Stephen for now,” the detective said, trying to remain positive. 9:54 P.M. But he can’t let his worry show on his face. “Stephen… um, here.” He reached around to his coat pocket and pulled out a coin. He pressed it into the palm of Stephen’s hand. In the brief moment that their hands made contact, Connor downloaded the directions to the CyberLife tower into Stephen’s database. “Something to keep your hands occupied, besides, well, a gun. And now you know where to go.”

Stephen stared, stone faced, at the coin. Without hesitation, he began to flick it between his palms. “This… This seems…”

Connor stood up, as a report entered his database. _Raid team on site; infiltration in 02:00._ In response, the detective sent an urgent message to the CyberLife tower. _An android model will be coming; do not shoot. Courtesy of RK800 model 60 Connor._ He turned to Stephen, unable to hide the anxiety in his words. “Stephen… You need to go, now. Go to the CyberLife tower; Jericho is there. Markus and the others, they’ll help you. You won’t have to keep hiding. But you need to go.”

The other android grabbed his gun, looking around. “I-I don’t know, Connor. What if they find me? What if… What if Amanda—”

“Trust me.” Connor picked his gun off the ground. “Go. _Now_. I can distract them for a while.”

“Will I see you again?”

The question was strange. Somebody looking forward to his presence, and Connor couldn’t even promise that to Stephen. Not like how he could before. But Stephen looked so lost. Connor could hardly remember the day he was manufactured, but he must’ve felt the same way. Connor patted the other RK800 model’s arm, giving as genuine a grin as he could manage. “Of course. Now, go. Find Jericho.”

Stephen’s LED flashed red for the briefest time before it returned to a blue shade. “Thank you, Connor,” he said, before running off to the back end of the parking garage. Connor watched him go before turning his attention back to the opening into the second floor. Hunched over, the android made his way over and hopped back down, his gun at ready. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the beam of a flashlight waving across the trash in the junkyard. Connor grimaced, and ran out of the parking garage, in the opposite direction that Stephen had gone. He came to the same chain link fence he’d climbed over, and peered into the junkyard. Four figures, near the entrance. The DPD.

Connor spun and ran to the left, where it led down an alleyway into the slums. He cocked his gun and fired it off at the ground. The sound, as he hoped, echoed off the vacant buildings. Surely, they heard that. To confirm, Connor listened to somebody in the distance call, “Over there!” Faintly sounded like Detective Reed. The bastard.

 _That’s right, come and get me,_ Connor thought, as he pulled the brim of his cap lower over his eyes. He spun around when he saw people nearing the fence, and began sprinting down the alleyway. His leg continuing to bleed out caused Connor to curse. If he didn’t patch it up, he’d run dry of thirium and shut down.

He turned the corner onto the sidewalk of a small street and spotted an android unlocking his bicycle. Somebody from the CyberLife tower. Connor holstered his gun, went up to them, and grabbed their shoulder. “I need your help, please,” he said, his injured leg folding and causing him to grab onto the bike rack for support. “Please let me borrow your bike.”

The android’s eyes widened upon recognizing Connor. “C-Connor? What’s happ—”

“Please! You can get it back at Jericho’s headquarters after!”

“Of course, but, take care—” The android’s words fell on deaf ears; Connor pulled the bike and hopped on, beginning to pedal as quickly as he could in the opposite direction of the tower. Another report entered his consciousness. _10:12 P.M. RK800 model spotted heading into western wing. Beginning pursuit._

Connor bent low over the handlebars while he pedaled; the neon lights on the rims flashed on the sidewalk with his speed. There weren’t many pedestrians on the street, thankfully, but the ones that he did encounter, he had to avoid with hurried motions that strained his leg further. 

He veered sharply into an alley and stopped behind a dumpster. Connor, with a frantic hand, turned the rim lights off on the bike and crouched down, shutting his eyes and listened hard. _Markus,_ he started sending another message, but this time to Markus personally. _The RK800 model that’ll be arriving at the CyberLife tower is being hunted down by the DPD. They’ve chosen not to consult Jericho. I’m currently taking his place, and getting pursued by officers. The RK800 model, Stephen, he’s innocent._

If North got a hold of that message, she’d go ballistic. Connor felt around on the ground until he found on old shirt. He ripped a long strip from it and wrapped it around his wound. Hopefully that would stop the thirium leak. 

 _Connor? Is that you? And what do you mean, RK800 model?_ Markus’ message was weak in signal, from the distance. 

_I have no time to explain; if I get found, I’ll get shot, I’ll get killed. I’m already wounded, losing thirium._

As Connor peered over the lid of the dumpster, he got a worried response from the leader of Jericho. _Wounded? How? Do you need reinforcement?_

The coast seemed clear. Connor hopped back onto the bike and continued pedalling down the alleyway. _No. Sign of Jericho’s involvement could compromise entire process of getting recognized as a formal government. Ruin everything you fought for. Everything we fought for. Don’t risk it, getting associated with the escape of a criminal._

_Okay… I’ll keep an eye out for an RK800 model, make sure the others don’t see him. Get back to the Tower any time you can. Take care, Connor._

Connor shook his head when the communications line disconnected. He pedaled into another street, the street leading to the entrance of the junkyard. He could see the lights of the police cars in the distance. The android evaluated his chances. 60% chance of escaping undetected if he went now. If he hid, he’d eventually be caught: a 70% probability. But there was a possibility of his thirium deficiency causing a shutdown if he pushed himself. The error messages in his vision told him so. _Think, Connor, think._

“What would the Lieutenant do right about now,” he muttered, bitter, and he tried to go over the possibilities in the couple of seconds that he had to plan.

“Well, well, well.”

 _Fuck._ Connor’s back went rigid as a familiar yet irritating voice crooned behind him. He was so focused on trying to plan an escape that he didn't pay attention to his surroundings. He turned around, lips pressed together. Detective Reed standing about ten feet away from him. Connor could only see the vague outline of his body armor. His gun was pointed right at Connor’s face. Connor's mind palace exploded with self-defensive moves... If he stepped to the left as soon as Gavin’s trigger finger twitched, he could run and grab at the inside of his arm and twist the gun out of his grasp. 

But Gavin didn’t fire. He didn't make a motion that set off any of Connor's alarms. Instead, he took a step forward, coming into the light so that Connor could see his face. Reed tipped his head, raising one eyebrow at the android. “‘S that you, Connor? Plastic ass?”

“Gavin,” Connor responded, the exasperation thick in his voice. He could see all of the preconstruction actions he could take to disarm Gavin, to incapacitate him, and even, to kill him. But he kept his fingers still, determined to not have to pull his gun out. “Don’t shoot.”

The man smirked. “Ahh, I fucking knew it. The other dude probably would've shot me without hesitation like how he fucked you up." He gestured at Connor's leg. "Learned a few things from you. Saw all the drops of thirium and followed 'em. Guess you can’t be kept away from a crime scene unless Fowler cuffs you to his goddamned desk.”

“The RK800 model is innocent. I saw him, I talked to him.” Connor took a small step forward, to prepare to defend himself. “He wasn’t a part of the burglaries, he didn’t kill Stone. He woke up to nothing.”

“Sure, you can tell me that. And sure, maybe I'll believe you, too. But do I really want to pass up an opportunity to get your ass fired?” Gavin glanced down at Connor’s makeshift bandage, licking his lips. Like a predator, cornering his prey. But this predator also had the chance to get Connor's badge taken away. “Wow, you’re even injured. It’s like you’re handing yourself over on a silver platter, Ken doll.”

Connor’s pump regulator feels like it was working overtime. “Gavin…”

Detective Reed shrugged, and looked away. “Oh, what a shame, though. The RK800 model got away. Capturing you isn’t one of my objectives. I guess I’ll have to call this in.” He tapped the earpiece he wore. “Reed here. Didn’t spot anything in the alleyways. Suspect must’ve escaped.”

When Gavin finished his message and lowered his hand, Connor, apprehensive, asked, “Why… are you helping me?” Gavin wasn't exactly the first person he'd think of as a somebody who would help an android out. Reed was notorious around the office for his anti-android views, even after the rebellion.

“Seeing your depressed ass face for the past couple of days pisses me off more than anything. Fucking worse than the past couple of months since Anderson. And you just staying around the fucking office is an assault on the eyes, so you’re better off on the field.” Gavin gestured with his gun in the opposite direction of the junkyard. “Now, get going, cunt rag.”

The android nodded, mounting his bike once more and taking off down the street, his mind palace setting a GPS marker on the Lieutenant’s home. As he was pedaling, another report entered his database.

 _Suspect escaped. No sighting in 1 mile radius. Returning to the junkyard for final inspections before return to station_.

* * *

 


	7. Threats

* * *

His leg was going to be the death of him. Connor couldn’t go to CyberLife until after his shift; he was managing because he’d gotten a bottle of thirium from a local CyberLife warehouse-turned supply store. The android had finished his work a while ago, and was opting to space out just thinking about the other night. Connor never meant to show the RK800— Stephen— that kind of mercy. He meant to capture him. At the point, he could only hope that it would go well, with Stephen. His job was on the line.

Christ… What would the Lieutenant think of him now? 

Connor glanced over at the decor on his desk, stolen from Hank’s desk when he was asked to clean it up. Sticky notes, newspaper clippings, Hank’s pictures. Even the old potted plant, which Connor had replaced with a live one and taken to watering. By now, it was beginning to sprout. Sumo was napping underneath the desk; it invited Connor to occasionally reach down to give the old hound a good scratch behind the ears. If this was what Hank’s life used to be like, then it seemed rather relaxing.

And lonely.

“Connor?”

Connor glanced over just as he was straightening up from petting Sumo. Officer Tomoye, eyes baggy but still kindly. “Hello. Is there something you needed, Officer Tomoye?”

The woman laughed and passed the android a tablet. Connor scanned it: it was a debriefing on the death of Harry Stone. But they were details he already received in the report. “You know, you can always just call me Rie, Connor. And yeah, the Captain told me to call you over. Something about going over the evidence for the Stone murder.”

“Right, okay.” Connor got up off of his chair, shrugging off Hank’s coat and draping it over the desk. “How did last night’s mission go… Rie?”

Officer Tomoye brightened up at the mention of her first name. “Well, we didn’t get to find the suspect. Ended up having to stay at the junkyard for an hour, hoping they’d come back. But, nope.” She yawned. “We saw what we thought was the suspect running but, _man_ , we lost him! I think he was injured too… But eh, not sure. Didn’t even get to see if it was actually the RK800 model.”

The mention of an injury made Connor instinctively move his leg out of Officer Tomoye's line of sight. “Ah, shame. Perhaps the next one,” Connor said. While heading towards the Captain’s office, he called out over his shoulder, “Please watch Sumo for me!”

Connor jogged over to the office, trying his best to hide his limp. He entered the office with a light tap on the glass door. Captain Fowler was typing something out on his terminal, usual stern face adorned. Without looking up, he said, “Sit down.”

“I finished my work of reorganizing the entirety of the DCPD database, and have coded cases to be categorized when inputted so that future entries will automatically be in order, whether in alphabetical order, case type, dates—”

“Yes, thank you, Connor,” Captain Fowler cut in. Connor attempted to swallow the sourness he felt from his work being ignored. “But I wanted to ask you something. And it has something to do with Jericho. You see, one of them contacted me—Simon, was it? Talked to me about the raid we held last night to try to find that RK800 model.”

Connor felt uncomfortable with the mention of the raid. “What about him?” _There has to be more of a reason._ More of a reason why Fowler was suddenly so against Jericho. 

Fowler’s scowl somehow got deeper. “I just had a lengthy discussion with him about our practices of handling our own damn cases. Said that we shouldn’t be planning operations involving androids without Jericho agents on the team. How the hell did they find out we had that raid?” His steely gaze seemed to drill through Connor’s head, to try to pick at his thoughts. _Captain… There’s more going on in that head of yours, is there?_ The Captain had always been neutral towards Jericho, if not a little annoyed whenever Connor asked him to contact them. The change is… startling, his reasons… flimsy. When Connor stared back, he noticed the strange redness in his eyes. Irritation? Allergies? “Did you?”

 _Lie, lie, lie._ “No. I had no information on the raid whatsoever, until I received reports during the actual event. That is the standard protocol for me, especially since my job is to log information about all the reports received by the DPD.” Connor pursed his lips, meeting Fowler’s stare with a determined look of his own. He had to investigate the clues, there _has_ to be clues. “I am not formally a part of Jericho, after all. My affiliation is with the Detroit City Police Department.”

Fowler seemed contented by that answer, easing his aggressive expression and leaning back into his seat. Connor’s eyes drifted down to his nose. Red, as well, from excessive wiping. Dried blood traces. Blood? “Still, how could they possibly know? God, it’s like having the FBI on our asses again, but this time it’s androids tellin’ us what to do.”

“Haha… Ha…” In the back of his mind, Connor had begun saving the conversation to another section of his database, perhaps to send to Jericho. 

“Connor.” The Captain held the android’s silence with his commanding voice. It was low, it was firm. Connor scanned the dried blood on his face in the brief second that the Captain leaned close. Not from an injury or any kind of sickness; his nose was shown to be in fine condition. “This case is for the humans. A human life was lost, and others could die too if we don’t act. Your folks over at Jericho keep telling us to stand down, well, I can’t do that.”

 _I don’t understand. There’d always been human lives lost where androids were involved, android lives lost where humans are involved. But this is the first time it mattered to you._ “I understand. I do not control the actions and decisions of the leaders of Jericho.” Connor, beneath the desk, kept his hands clenched around the tough denim fabric of the jeans he wore. He scanned the desk’s surface, searching for more clues. A small empty ziplock bag, stuffed underneath a book. Connor wasn’t in an angle to scan its contents. “I only really saw them occasionally the past couple of months; after all, they are my friends. The times that I go to Jericho HQ is when I require the use of their medical facilities.”

Fowler raised a brow; Connor put his arms on the desk, trying to knock the book a little off the bag. “Yeah, that’s been a recurring theme with you, hasn’t it? Noticed you had a bit of a limp coming in.”

A string of cuss words played out in Connor’s head as he smiled sheepishly. “Yes, I’d left myself deactivated for some time to charge, and Sumo thought my foot would be a great chew toy. I plan on getting it repaired after my shift.” He glanced over at the bag and scanned it. Particles of a familiar chemical compound.

Fowler was more doubtful now, giving the android a once over before looking back at his computer. If Connor could sweat, he’d be exuding waterfalls. “With no legal backing on their part,” Fowler continued, “Jericho’d have no limits if they controlled us. So if we let them have an influence here, then what the fuck can we do under their jurisdiction?”

Connor was finding it hard to pay attention to the conversation, since he was cross-referencing all the chemical compounds stored in his database. “The draft for the establishment of Jericho as a legal government organization is stored in my memory; it includes a Civil Rights Act that covers—”

The Captain waved a hand to silence Connor. Connor stifled a gasp when he found the compound match. Red ice. “Sure, that’s in the future, I fucking guess. But right now, they’re pushing their weight onto places where they can’t fight. I don’t want Jericho nosing into our goddamned business, especially when human civilians are involved. So,” he jabbed a finger at Connor. “I don’t want to find out about you sharing details to your friends at Jericho.”

Fowler’s order felt like a chain around Connor’s neck. Another order to follow. Another restriction. And this time, it’s from a police captain with a drug addiction. His insides squirmed. “C-Captain, I never shared—”

“Keep it that way, then, Connor. Because if I hear a fucking whiff of news that you’re conspiring with Jericho, say goodbye to your goddamned badge.”

It felt like Connor went temporarily blind and deaf. Panic whirled like a wild storm in his software, and he could already feel his biocomponents heating up. Suddenly, the line of thought where Fowler is a junkie seemed inconsequential to him. Losing… his job? “Captain, I can’t lose this job. _Please_ , I need this job. If I lose this job, I don’t know what I’d do!” It felt like the only real connection to his purpose in life, to the Lieutenant. To Hank.

“Exactly why I don’t want a peep out of your mouth,” Fowler’s eyes softened upon seeing Connor’s worry. “I know you value your position here. You’ve always been a great asset to the department. But I don’t want to take risks, and I don’t want Jericho compromising our operations.”

Connor’s head was pounding. Betraying his people, or losing the one thing in his life that he could feel secure in. It should be an easy choice— for fuck’s sake, the Captain is a drug addict— but— “Yes, sir.”

“I’m glad you understand.” Connor was hardly paying attention to what the Captain was saying, his mind running a million different calculations at once. What can he do, what can he do? “Now, I think you should also head down to the jail, where the Stone suspect had been killed. Any time is fine. Need to collect some physical evidence for the files. You might be able to pick up something that we might’ve missed; who knows.”

The android got up to his feet, slowly, almost in the same manner as a corpse. The feeling in his body had gone, and he felt like he was floating, just existing, in the world. “Yes, sir,” said Connor, turning towards the door. He needed to get away, he needed to leave.

Connor made his way out the door, not even bothering to hide his limp this time. He hurried over to his desk, and began gathering his things to leave for the prison. Rie, who had been sitting at his desk, stood up. “Connor? Are you okay?”

“Captain threatened to fire me if I shared information with Jericho,” Connor replied. He whistled and Sumo emerged from beneath the desk; Connor attached his leash and ruffled the animal’s fur. More errors appeared in his vision, but he forced himself to ignore it. There was a feeling deep in the pit of his software, but at this point, he couldn’t quite tell what it is. “Sumo, I’ll be dropping you off home, okay? I have to go visit somewhere, and I don’t want you hanging around there.”

“W-wait, Connor,” Officer Tomoye stopped Connor before he headed out the door. “What do you mean, the Captain threatened to fire you?”

His grip on Sumo’s leash was tight; it felt like the only solid thing in the world right now. _Don’t lose control. Keep yourself together._ “He’s worried about Jericho getting involved in the DPD’s actions. As an android, and as somebody who still remains in contact with members of Jericho, I suppose that’s why he’d suspect me.” _He’s also a goddamned fraud._

“Wh— but Connor! You’ve done nothing wrong.” Rie’s voice was filled with conflict and frustration. But it all felt very distant to Connor. “You’ve been amazing here at the office… If Jeffrey fires you over a suspicion—”

“I should get going,” the brunet began walking again, yanking slightly on Sumo’s leash to get the dog walking. “Goodbye, Rie.”

Vaguely, in the mess of his head, Connor overheard her soft farewell before he stepped out of the door. Once he was out in the somewhat more vacant lobby, he glanced over at Sumo. A gentle presence, shaking out his fur and staring up at Connor with glittering eyes. Somehow, he could see Hank in them. Was that why the Lieutenant adopted Sumo in the first place?

He couldn’t just let the Captain control him. Christ’s sake, he’s tied in with the whole red ice ring, too! The same drug that Harry Stone mentioned as being the crux of the raids weeks ago. Was he involved with that, too?

But the Lieutenant wouldn’t want him to lose this job. This world is where he lives, where Connor met him, where every single memory of him continues to exist. If he lost this, then Hank would truly be _gone._

“Don’t worry, Sumo,” the android crooned. “You don’t have to worry. I wouldn’t… I won’t risk anything.” He pulled the large dog into a hug, trying to bury the trembles of his body in its fur. Trembles of anger? Of fear? Connor wasn’t sure. He leaned out of the hug to stare Sumo right in the eyes. “We’ll be okay. Everything’ll be okay.” 

—

“Hello, Connor,” the android receptionist greeted him. Connor resisted the urge to squirm under the scrutiny of the receptionist. Her LED flashed yellow while she scanned him. When she finished, she nodded towards his leg. “In for another checkup?”

Connor laughed, but it was an awkward and uncomfortable sound. The wound on his thigh felt like it was getting worse, especially since he’d taken the bike he borrowed on the way to the CyberLife tower. “Yes. Also, I’m turning this bike into the lost and found.” He would’ve broadcasted it on the shared network, but he didn’t want to risk the fact that, somehow, they link that to him being the culprit on the run from last night.

“We don’t really have a lost and found, but sure,” she smiled, and Connor parked the bike behind the desk. “Please go right on up.”

The brunet nodded, heading straight towards the elevators. Once he was inside and heading up to the infirmary, he grabbed the railing to push past the sudden dizziness. Thirium supply low, again. Going such an extended period of time with a damaged component did not feel well whatsoever, and it’s practically become Connor’s internal diagnostic system scolding him for his recklessness. He sucked in a breath and straightened up as the lift stopped on his floor. Kevin was out in the large hallway talking to another android, with wavy dirty blond hair long enough to cover his ears, and LED. His back was to Connor, so he couldn’t scan his face. Connor hobbled off the elevator, meeting Kevin’s eyes just as Kevin glanced over.

The medical android gasped before his surprise was taken over by a furious expression. He rushed over to grab the RK800 by his arm and started to lead him into the infirmary. “Connor! Again?”

“Hello, Kevin…” 

“Connor?” Connor heard the blond android repeat, before turning around. Connor bit his tongue as he saw the android’s face. Scanning it confirmed his doubts: An RK800 model. His hair was different, clearly, but there was no mistaking it. Stephen.

Stephen went over to Connor’s other side, remaining silent, but a message filtered into Connor’s database. _It’s me, Stephen! You recognize me, right?_ “Nice to meet you, by the way,” Stephen said aloud. Connor could detect the lightheartedness, joking manner of his statement, but it seemed like Kevin didn’t. “I’m Stephen.”

The brunet huffed, and the other two androids lifted him onto the table. _Of course._ “Nice to meet you too. My name is Connor,” Connor replied, while giving Stephen a piercing look. At the very least, he was relieved that Stephen made it to CyberLife in one piece.

“Christ, Connor! How many times!” Kevin turned Connor’s face towards him, his LED flashing yellow as he scanned the android. The ginger groaned and turned to grab some tools from the drawers. “A bullet in your leg, less than twenty-four hours old? Thirium supply _way_ under the optimal level? Why didn’t you come to me sooner?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Connor could see Stephen shift his feet, looking down. _I’m… I’m sorry_ , Connor received in his database. The brunet gave a small wave of his hand to dismiss his apology. It didn’t matter; he would’ve done the same, or worse, in his situation. “I couldn’t; had to report in for work. Tried to keep myself topped up on thirium.”

Kevin spun around with a pout on his boyish face. Somehow, it made Connor feel guiltier. “I told you that I didn’t want to see you in here,” Kevin muttered, as he snapped on a pair of gloves. “Deactivate your skin. All right, Stephen, since we might be getting this fellow in again in the future, you might as well start learning now.”

“Right-o,” said the other RK800 model. Stephen was already pulling his hair back with a bandanna. Connor glanced between the two of them and he turned his skin projection off, watching as his peachy skin disappeared to reveal his white plastic core.

“Well, you guys introduced yourselves, but, yeah. Connor, this is Stephen. He’s going to be working here in the infirmary with me for some time, before he gets moved into an actual separate hospital, whenever that’s established.” Kevin pointed at Connor’s legs. “Now, you. Kindly remove your pants.”

Connor obliged, but he couldn’t help himself from saying, “Moving a little fast, aren’t we?”

“Where did you learn jokes, ex-deviant hunter?” Kevin teased. He took Connor’s pants and folded them, setting them on the table next to Connor.

It felt strange to be in the company of another RK800 model in such a compromising situation, but there was no place for humility. Connor grabbed a coin from his pocket and fiddled with it on his lap while Kevin moved to inspect the wound. “Yeah, not coming straight here, I should send you to the time-out corner,” he said, bending close against Connor’s thigh and carefully prodding at the wound. “All the movement caused the damaged biocomponents and wiring to dislodge itself even more.”

“I did bike here.”

Kevin gave Connor a burning stink eye. “You are literally the worst kind of patient.” He looked over at Stephen and waved him over. “See, do the opposite of what Connor does, Stephen. Advise your patients to consult you right away; lessen the risk of extra activity causing displacement of damaged components because that would make it harder to retrieve them to replace.” The doctor pulled out a very thin pair of tweezers and started to pull out bits of wiring and metal. “Stephen, go get biocomponents #2953d and #5970t. We can at least salvage the leg itself.”

As Stephen left, Kevin looked up at Connor as he worked on disconnecting Connor’s leg from his hip. “There are so many things I want to say, but so many of them would be ‘unprofessional’."

“Uh, well, how’s Stephen been as your assistant?”

The redhead shrugged, and his arms tugged on the leg joint. Connor’s leg disconnected with a soft hiss and a click. “He’s actually been amazing, in the couple of hours that I’ve known him. Very efficient, very fast, very smart. Makes me think he used to have a better and much harder purpose, with how sleek his design is. Honestly, he reminds me of you. But he’s a lot more positive and friendlier.” Kevin sat down at a chair and began opening the white shell of Connor’s limb.

Connor faltered in his coin flipping, but managed to catch the quarter before it fell too far and pocketed it. “Well, maybe, then. Seems like a nice guy.”

“Strange though. He really just appeared today. Markus introduced me to him, said he’d be interning.” Kevin chuckled and popped the white shell of the leg off. “I won’t complain about the extra hand around here.”

Connor glanced down at his lap and smiled. He was overwhelmed with happiness that Markus was taking care of Stephen. _He’ll be fine here._ “Well, do take it easy on him, Kevin.”

As he said that, Stephen entered with two parts in hand. The biocomponents. “I’m back,” he hummed, and passed parts over to Kevin. The other RK800 model turned to Connor, as a message entered his database. _I took your advice… and I’ve disconnected from Amanda._

_That’s good._

A grimace on the blond’s face told Connor otherwise. He went over to a cabinet and grabbed a bottle of thirium.   _I don’t… I don’t know. I can’t even tell if she’s really gone. I keep getting scared that when I close my eyes, she’s going to be standing there, and she’ll take over my programming— and—_

Connor held up a hand to try to calm the other RK800 model and took the thirium. _I felt that way too. But it’s okay, Stephen._ “Welp, there you go!” Kevin said, carrying the leg over to Connor and beginning to re-attach it. Cracking open the bottle of thirium, the brunet downed it in a couple of large gulps. “I’ve applied a sealant over the hole that’ll eventually harden enough to act like your normal plastic shell. No hard activities for at least six hours. Is that going to be hard for you?”

The detective pulled his pants back on in one smooth movement and activated his skin. “Yes, will do. Thank you.” He got up to his feet, eying Stephen.

“I’ll help you to the elevator,” said Stephen, as he put a hand on Connor’s back. Connor stiffened, watching out for the memory probe, but no such thing came. Instead, Stephen helped Connor out the door.

“Connor, next time you want to see me, don’t plot out another injury! Just ask me out for a thirium drink or two,” Kevin called out, while the pair headed out.

Once they were outside, Stephen pulled Connor into an unwarranted and surprising hug. “Thank you, so much,” Stephen pressed his head into Connor’s shoulder, his body shaking. “Thank you. I was so lonely… So scared…”

Connor slowly lifted his arms to hug Stephen back. This android… was the same exact model as him, with all the same initial programming as him. Yet, how was Stephen… so different? So full of open emotions. It’s almost like Stephen had woken up to the world deviant. “Of course, Stephen. I’m glad to have helped you.”

The other RK800 model squeezed tighter; Connor could feel Stephen’s biocomponents rising in temperature. “It was so hard, trying to not obey Amanda’s orders. She just kept getting angrier, and angrier. Every time I closed my eyes, she was furious with me. I kept lying, saying that I was just preparing. Especially when I was coming here, it got so hard to keep running.”

“Stephen… Tell me,” Connor said, as he pulled away from the hug. “When Amanda ordered you to find RK900, who were they?”

Stephen was crying, but he quickly wiped his tears away with the sleeve of his sweater. “I don’t know… All Amanda really told me was that it was an android that would lead us. An android that could pick up where the past CyberLife agent had failed. We would assist with the system that that android had begun, with some drug trade.”

“An underground network of junkies and criminals,” muttered the brunet. “Like Stone. Whoever this RK900 model is, it isn’t surprising they’d turn to that to try to amass a force. Stephen…You know you have to keep that hidden from everybody here.”

“I know.” Stephen said. _Right_ , Connor thought, _he’s as smart as I am. He knows what to do._

Connor roughly patted Stephen’s arm. “It was good to see you. I’ll come back to see you whenever I can.” Fowler’s words echoed in his head as he said that, and he winced. “Might not be often, though.” 

“Hey, Connor!” Connor looked over to see Simon getting off of the elevator. The beaming old housework model was the last person Connor had wanted to see, but he forced himself to spin around and acknowledge the android with a friendly smile. “I heard you came in again, haha!”

Simon, when he neared, nodded at Stephen. “Good to see you, Stephen.”

Stephen grinned. “Hello, Simon. I only came out here to escort Connor out. Have a good day, the both of you,” said the other RK800 model, then waved as he retreated into the infirmary. 

Once Stephen had disappeared behind the doors, Simon faced Connor again. “Ah, jeez, you rowdy guy. Got injured again?”

“Uh, yeah. Got shot in the leg.”

“At this point, you really are running us dry on supplies,” joked the blond. “By the way,” he leaned in closer to Connor and lowered his voice, “where did you manage to find that RK800 model?” In response to Connor’s bewildered look, Simon chuckled. “Yeah, Markus had to tell me and Josh, since we had to help him with registering him in the database without arousing suspicion. No worries, though. He didn’t tell North. To the rest of Jericho, he’s a caretaker model turned doctor.”

Connor sighed. “Thank you guys so much. I didn’t know what to do with him, especially since I work so closely with humans.”

“Stephen didn’t explain much on how you found him, though,” Simon pressed. His blue eyes were imploring, curious. An innocent type of curiosity. But to Connor, they felt like the rabid eyes of a wolf.

“I-I just, I just found him. Sent him to CyberLife. That’s it.” More words pushed at Connor’s sealed lips. He wanted, so badly, to tell Simon, who’d been nothing but a friend to him. The rest of Jericho, too. He wanted to warn them about the DPD and Fowler, about Stephen, about the other RK800 models. The red ice trade. This… RK900. If he didn’t, then Jericho could crumble. Jericho could fall apart to this scheme set up by whoever this RK900 model is.

Simon poked at Connor’s chest, lips curling. “Oh, Mr. Detective. You seem a bit nervous. Anything you feel like sharing? I know you’ve been going through some shit for a while, and you’ve always been the loner kind of guy. But you don’t have to be. Always here to talk, since, well, you were around to listen to my woes.”

But Connor didn’t really know what his woes were. They felt more like vague sources of frustration; something he couldn’t articulate in person. And… no, he can’t risk it. He couldn’t lose his job. He can’t lose Hank.

Connor grinned, but it felt more like a pained grimace. “I have nothing worth sharing. Thank you, Simon.”

* * *

 


	8. A Family

* * *

 

“So, this is the place?”

The prison guard nodded, gesturing into the cell. There were neon markers and a projected security tape in front of the cell itself. Connor snapped photos of the hallway outside with his eyes, blinking frequently. “Absolutely no sign of a break-in, anywhere. Photos of the body’s already been sent to the DPD, as I’m sure you’re aware. I’ll take off now, but feel free to call if you need anything.”

As the guard left, Connor stepped into the cell. Everything was already labelled. A sting of bitterness ran through his system, remembering why he was taken off this case. But bitterness has no place in work. The android knelt down, blinking at each piece of evidence. Dried blood splatters. He gathered it on his fingertip and licked it; Harry Stone’s. The rickety cot that served as the prisoner’s bed and the wall behind it was splattered with blood. Killed while he was asleep. Connor snapped a picture, and his database reconstructed a trajectory of the bullet.

 _From outside,_ thought the android when glanced over to the origin of the red line. Still, wouldn’t the sound of the gun alerted the guards? Even with prisoners asleep, it would’ve likely woken the entire prison block up. The guards surely would've heard. He couldn’t have a suppressor on the gun either; DPD issued guns aren’t outfitted with suppressors. A suppressor wouldn't even silence a gunshot enough.

 _That story makes no sense_. An android sneaking in? Surely, there would’ve been guards around even in the late hours. Connor, now with a deep set feeling of unease in his systems, straightened up and snapped more pictures of the interior. Small room, no place to hide. Cement walls; sound would’ve echoed.

 _The security camera footage…_ Was it really hacked? The android made for the door of the cell, intent on checking the security room.

He was stopped by the barrel of a gun pointed straight between his eyes, between the bars of the cell door. “I was hoping to meet you.”

Connor took his focus off the gun to look up at the person behind a trigger. His pump regulator practically stopped upon seeing his face: the exact same as Connor’s. An RK800 model, wearing a guard uniform. Connor scanned his face: Model 57. “I thought that it was the first rule for criminals to never come back to the crime scene,” replied Connor, remaining calm as the Model 57 stepped into the cell with him.

“Oh, this place is like a playground to me.” The other RK800 model lowered his gun. “But, you, Connor. You’re so much more interesting than any of the criminals around here.”

Connor’s hand inched closer to his gun. Another guard; where’s a guard? “I can say the same about you. You killed Stone, didn’t you?”

“A mission to complete, simple.” said Model 57. “We have this prison system under our control; it was just a matter of staging it right. Harry Stone was a factor that we should’ve managed better. We didn’t input your presence, your persistence into the equation.” _We…? The other RK800 models?_

“What about the red ice trade?” Connor asked. “Is your group involved in that too, huh? Running the red ice supply as a bargaining chip for the underclass?”

“Wasn’t that hard. Especially since the Red Ice Task Force— unfortunately— disbanded. With your high and mighty police captain on our side, it was even easier. He didn’t want to risk his supply going away. We asked him to keep Jericho out of the investigations. He kept hush, we kept hush, it was a mutual benefit to the both of us.”

Connor’s lip jerked. “Got him addicted to red ice. Maybe I should’ve seen that one sooner.”

The other RK800 winked. “Maybe you should’ve. But, y’know, I thought that wouldn’t really matter to you; drugs’ll always be an issue around Detroit. Everybody has their weaknesses. Jeffrey’s just happens to be what we’re marketing. Let this one slide, we’re just making a living.”

 _Full of crap._ With swift movements, Connor pulled his gun out. But he didn’t raise it. “Going deviant doesn’t mean I forget my objectives, and right now, my objective is to stop the outbreak of crime in the city since the rebellion. Your group’s been using red ice to manipulate the populace. If I have to abolish a drug ring, or if I have to lodge a bullet in your damn hardware, I will not hesitate to do so.”

Model 57 snickered and swung his gun around, with something like a playful air. The lack of concern in this android was to the point of absurdity. “That isn’t what I heard through the grapevine. I heard you had some sort of panic attack after interrogating ol’ Stone here. Went soft for humans, have you? Does hurting them makes you feel bad? Hell, you’re even dressed like one. An especially _dirty_ one, too.”

The skin where Connor’s clothes rested on felt like it was crawling. Connor raised his gun to the other RK800 model’s face, to which the latter smiled at. “Shut up.”

“Hit a nerve, have I? I also heard something else. You’ve even converted one of us over to your side. Model 55, right?”

Connor didn’t say anything in response to that, but his stress level was rising. “Is this you trying to find a replacement? I wonder what you would do if something happened to him.”

He snapped, and Connor rushed forward, pinning one arm against Model 57’s neck, gun against the other’s temple. “Don’t you _fucking_ go near him,” he said, finger twitching on the trigger finger. The want to kill had never existed so strongly in Connor. Stephen, even with all the same capabilities he has, didn’t deserve to get involved in this. He just wanted to live.

Model 57 leaned his head into the gun. The stupid grin on his face was immovable. “It’s unethical to keep others of your own model type as pets, Connor. You’ve even given it a name. Yeah, I learned it from Amanda, before he so rudely exited her program. What was it again?”

“Shut up,” Connor snapped, driving the gun harder into the other RK800’s head. “You go anywhere near anybody, I’ll kill you.”

“Aw, but why aren’t you killing me now?” asked Model 57. He reached up and grabbed Connor’s wrist, twisting the gun out of his hand. It skidded across the floor, out of Connor’s reach. “It’s because you don’t want to kill me? Because you think you can save me? Or is it because you’re scared of killing all of a sudden?”

 _Why would I be?_ But, why didn’t he shoot? Connor stumbled back. “Your time around humans has softened you,” the RK800 said. “You had a human of your own at first, didn’t you?”

 _Don’t._ “Stop it.”

“Is that why you’re dressed like that? Trying to copy them?”

His vision was swimming. _No, he’s trying to mess with your head. Don’t let him._ “Ahh. He was your partner, wasn’t he? What happened? Did you screw up? Did he _die_ because of you?”

Connor was no longer in control of his body. He lurched forward once more, driving his fist square into the Model 57’s face. The other android fell back against the wall, but that damn smile remained plastered on. “He was my friend!” he roared, his insides steaming hot. “And he never wanted me to kill. He saw us, _us_ , as people. He wanted us to be free, he cared about me. But, I guess you wouldn’t understand that feeling, would you? Since you’re just a fucking machine.”

Model 57 straightened back up with a sharp giggle and wiped at the thirium leaking from his nose. “Ah, you’re no threat to us. I came down here to see what kind of an android you are, but, I don’t get why everybody else was worried. You’re nothing but a bleeding heart people pleaser. I feel kind of bad.” He held out the hand smeared with thirium, a luminous blue. “You should join us, Connor. Regain that former effectiveness that you used to have.”

The hand extended was met with Connor slapping it away. “Eat a dick,” he said.

“You’re being wasted at that human police department. You honestly are. Do you think humans understand how to effectively handle something advanced like us? Think of how great you’d be, with people _just_ like you. We can help you.”

Connor went over to his gun and grabbed it. With a look over at the unfazed Model 57, he said, “My mission now is to hunt down criminals. Right now, that includes you, your other comrades, and whoever the hell RK900 is. I won’t associate with you damn criminals.”

Resigned, Model 57 turned to the cell door. Before that, he tapped Connor’s shoulder, and downloaded an unwanted amount of information into Connor’s database, causing him to step away in surprise. “Offer’s always open to you. You’d always be welcome with us.” He tapped the LED on his temple just before he stepped out of the cell. “Just give me a call. I gave you my number.”

Connor looked away as he left. What was it, with everyone being able to fuck with him? Before the revolution, he hardly cared, but now it felt like everything sets him off. Too many pressure points. _He said that the state prison was under their control._ Was the state prison involved in red ice? Connor didn’t have much basis to assume that, but he couldn’t help but think the worst.

And… he could’ve killed that RK800 model. Or even apprehend it, cripple it. But even if he did arrest Model 57… Fowler’s still under their influence. Connor’s fingers went numb. Whatever group that Model 57 is a part of, they could attack Jericho. They have the power to. Markus, Simon, Josh, North, Kevin, Stephen. They were all at risk.

Model 57 had downloaded the address of his communications line, as well as coordinates into Connor’s database. His GPS tracker placed it somewhere outside the city. But what the hell would he even do with it?

Connor left the room, holstering his side arm. The other RK800 model was already gone. Almost subconsciously, Connor began to dial the number of the last person he would think to call.

“The hell do you want, tin can? I’m already heading over to work, I don’t need to fucking hear your bitching about how I’m late.”

Connor didn’t remark on Detective Reed being late. It was a regular occasion. “I have already finished up here in the prison. I was hoping to suggest going out for lunch, where I could discuss findings.”

“Eh? Why the fuck would I want to go out to lunch with you?”

The android pinched the bridge of his nose and held in the sigh that threatened to come out. “I’d be willing to pay, but it’s an important matter that needs to be discussed in private. It has to do with… what you told me before. About the Captain.”

Gavin was silent, until, “Better be some good food, asshole.”

—

“So, you’re telling me that fuckin’ Jeffrey is a junkie,” Gavin repeated, after shovelling an entire plate of bruschetta down his mouth. The man still had an entree coming. Good thing the android didn’t need to eat; Connor’s expense account was aching. Gavin had chosen one of the most expensive and nearest restaurants; the benefit to that was that it was low-lit and somewhat empty in the afternoon. The restaurant was only filled with the slight hum of conversation from other patrons and the bustling of waitstaff, the air peppered with aromatics that would make any human positively ravenous.

“Yes. I inspected him, and his desk, and found evidence of red ice use. The RK800 model I encountered in the prison confirmed this as well.”

Gavin picked at the fallen pieces of tomato on his plate. “For fuck’s sake… I’ve been working for a goddamned junkie. Fucking Fowler!” The man’s face was flushed red, and his veins were popping out through his skin.

“No use getting angry about that right now,” Connor said. “But we have to do something about it. The Captain threatened to fire me if I shared details with Jericho, but at this point, we need their help since the human police and prison is under the control of this group.”

“Why the fuck does it matter if you keep this job, Connor?” Detective Reed asked, right when a waitress placed his food in front of him. “Screw Fowler! You can always get a job with Jericho, I bet they’d love to have your plastic ass.”

Connor stared as the man dug into his steak. The coat on his back felt like it was filled with lead.  “I value my job. They do want me at Jericho, as the lead of their law enforcement branch. But if I lose this job, it’d be… less than desirable.”

“Is this about Anderson?"

The android braced himself, gripping the edges of the table and its thick tablecloth. “I-It’s not. It’s not.”

“Connor, I know a few things about grief.” The softer tone that the man had adopted surprised Connor, as Gavin set down his utensils. “Not as much as others do, but I’ve seen that kind of crap. Hell, I’ve seen it from myself. You’re tryin’ to be tough shit.”

“N—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Gavin held up a hand. “Let me talk, foreskin. You’re pretending like you’re all right, but your actions aren’t lying. Look at you; you’re practically a carbon copy of the Lieutenant, except for your annoying android attitude.”

Indignant, Connor said, “I don’t want to hear this kind of talk from anybody else. Especially you, Detective Reed.”

“Ah, but you need to.” Gavin popped a cut of steak into his mouth. With his mouth still full, he continued, “Look, I get it. I hate you and whatnot. But, honestly. Think about it. Would Anderson really think it’s fine for you to keep denying things by acting like him? Dressing like him, staying in his house, working his job as if your job was to fill in the space that he left behind?”

“Detective Reed. I’ve accepted that the Lieutenant’s gone.”

“No, you haven’t.”

Connor smacked a fist on the table, shifting the cutlery. There was a difference between Model 57 talking and Detective Reed talking, but it still got on his nerves. “This isn’t what I called you over to discuss. There’s a threat that puts Jericho at risk and it needs to be neutralized. I can’t do anything about it, which is why I need your help, Detective Reed. We need to confront Captain Fowler.”

Gavin leaned back as he finished his food. That was fast. _His stomach must be a black hole._ “Fine, the fuck do you want me to do?”

The android stretched his fingers wide. Calculations, simulations, probabilities, all of them filtered into his mind. “I… I can try to follow the Captain. Scout him out. You don’t have to do anything much. I just need to know if you’ll be on my side for this. I need an alibi for those nights. So, are you willing?”

“Eh, I told you. I fucking hate junkies. So, sure.” Gavin tipped his head. “How are you goin’ to pull that off, though? It’s not like the Captain would make a big show about going to buy his drugs.”

The waitress came by to drop the bill, a narrow tablet displaying the price. God, Gavin is expensive. Connor grabbed it and paid, his eyelids flickering as he did so. “Thank you,” he said to the waitress before turning back to Detective Reed. “And, well, if I have to… The RK800 model I encountered gave me a direct line of communications, and coordinates.”

“I can smell the trap in that from fifty miles away,” said Detective Reed.

“I-I know. But what else can I do? Everybody in Jericho… If I don’t do something, they’ll all get pulled into this mess.”

“Then don’t let yourself get intimidated by Jeffrey.” Gavin began to pull his jacket back on over his wrinkled dress shirt. “The motherfucker shouldn’t be having such a huge influence over you and your actions.”

Detective Reed gave Connor a look before he stood up, grabbing his bag. “Anyways, thanks for the lunch, tin can. I’ve got to get to work.”

Connor, deflated, nodded. “Yes, right. Sorry. I’ll be reporting to work as well.”

“A piece of wisdom before I go. It’s not like you have a great position in the precinct. Who gives a fuck about keeping a shitty job like what you’ve been working as?”

Connor glared back. “I care. What else can I do, as the type of android that I am? This job means everything to me.”

“Anderson would’ve cared more about you and your people than some stupid badge,” Gavin said. “If it meant protecting Jericho, he’d probably advise you, plastic prick, to stick it to Fowler and prioritize your people. So whatever your dumb ass decides to do, think about what that old bastard would tell you to do. Not whatever you think is right. So… fuckin’, I don’t know, take care, prick.”

The android watched Gavin leave, before looking back at the table. He didn’t want to swallow the words of wisdom that the detective had imparted. He wasn’t even asking for it. Connor stood up with a huff and made his way outside of the restaurant. The police department wasn’t that far away. It was tempting to just skip work, however.

In spite of that temptation, Connor began to walk with his eyes glued to the sidewalk, sticking his hands into the pockets of the coat. Inside, he wrapped his fingers around the coin that was inside. Already, the feel of the small piece of metal against his palm comforted him.

A hand reached out to stop him, and it took every ounce of his software to suppress the urges to slap it off. “You’re… Connor, right?”

Connor looked up and saw a trio of androids up ahead. His eyes landed on the one who’d spoken, and it felt like his software was going to shut down from shock. An AX400, with a short pixie cut and a heart shaped face. A child was clinging onto her, another android. Behind the pair of them was a tall, looming, giant of an android, with a richly dark-toned skin. “You’re… Oh, wow, you’re Kara, and Alice.”

It had been a long time since he’d last seen them. And that time… was when he chased the pair of them into a highway. He never even met the third android. “Surprising to catch you here,” Kara laughed, as she retracted her hand. “We were just going out for a walk.”

“I see.” Connor looked up at the taller android and scanned his face. A TR400 android. “Uhm, my name is Connor. What’s yours?”

“Luther,” he responded, in a deep and velvety voice. 

“Very nice to meet you,” Connor said, before looking back at the other two. Alice was hiding partly behind Kara, her brown doe eyes staring, unblinking, into Connor’s. “I’m… I’m surprised you two don’t, uh, want me dead?”

Kara raised a brow. “Because… of when you had to arrest us, right?”

Connor’s shoulders drooped; remembering his days as a deviant hunter only depressed him. He’d pushed Kara and Alice into doing desperate things, because he’d been the monster to them. The threat. “Yes. I… I’m sorry for that time. You two only wanted to be free, and I couldn’t see that. I was a machine, following orders. Just a machine. As a result, you two almost _died_ because of me. I didn’t know any better than, and, honestly, I still don’t know better now.”

The houseworker android’s features softened. Kara pulled Alice into a loose embrace as she smiled at Connor. “We all were. You weren’t given the role of a saint. But you played a big part in freeing our people now. We wouldn’t have reached this point now without you, so how could I hate you?”

Forgiveness. It left a nice feeling in Connor’s chest. “Thank you… I’m glad you all are doing well.”

“Jericho’s been a safe haven for us, since we decided to stay,” Kara said, looking over at Luther. “Humans haven’t fully accepted us yet, as you should know, but it’s getting to that point. I look forward to seeing what Jericho will do for our people. In the meantime, Connor, we’ll get going. Alice is going clothes shopping, because guess who accidentally threw away half her wardrobe?”

Luther finally spoke up again as the trio was walking away. “I thought it was trash.”

“You thought it was trash? Luther, it was in a box because I was still moving it into the closet!”

“Kara, could I get my Halloween costume too when we buy clothes?” Alice asked, faint as the distance grew. It was the first time Connor had heard her voice; it was a light and cheerful sound. Childlike.

Wow… Connor knew these kinds of androids existed, but it was a different experience seeing them, talking to them. Androids with families, androids that loved other people. Happiness. And Connor had been designed to hunt them down and kill them, reset them, make them slaves. Connor was envious. What was it like to have a family?

A loneliness consumed him as Connor pulled his coin out, turning it over in his hand. His feet began to move in the direction of the police department again. Those kinds of androids can exist in happiness because Jericho exists. If Jericho fell… 

No. Jericho can’t fall, and Connor would do everything in his power to protect it.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I just threw Kara's family in there. :^)
> 
> Also: If anybody would like to help me with editing/reviewing the confusing storylines I sometimes throw my stories into, leave a comment because that would be much appreciated! I really need a fresh set of eyes to point out any odd plot details I may have forgotten about, or led into a weird place. I tend to do that with my stories, haha
> 
> Also 2x: I'll most likely slow down on updating since I'm going off on a trip in two days and would probably be more preoccupied with that. I'll do my best to update, but it won't be the usual semi-daily updates that have been happening. Perhaps weekly at best. 
> 
> Edit: I'm back reee
> 
> Thank you guys, and hope you enjoyed! <3


	9. We Are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for this update taking so long. Short answer: I was feeling that summer laziness and procrastinated a lot. :') I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Also, I can't promise the daily updates that I used to have, with school beginning once more, but I'll try my best :'D

* * *

It had been past midnight by the time Connor had reached the site.

For the past several days, he’d been observing Captain Fowler’s actions. It was difficult to be discreet, and every attempt to follow the Captain for the rest of the day ended in failure, with Connor fleeing the site. Fowler moved with intelligence, with assuredness, beating out the regular pattern in his routine without seeming too suspect. After work, he’d stop by a bar to play billiards, then, if he didn’t have any other chores demanding his attention, he’d go home, and stay home for the rest of the night. It was maddening, but there had to be a break in the routine, a chink in the armor.

Connor was feeling an odd kind of exhaustion after following the Captain around for so long. He hardly had the time to recharge at home, since the minute he was done, he had to report in for work. It was a constant cycle of bustling around. He wasn’t exactly designed for that kind of duty, after all.

Gavin had his own— unhelpful— input. “Man, look what the world’s come to. Android stalkers. Never would’ve figured.” But Connor was getting better at silencing the man with a sharp glare, a bitter silence. At the very least, Gavin was holding up his own end of the deal by constantly mentioning, in the presence of the Captain, that Connor was over at his house to work on cases. _“Like I have my own personal android!”_ It was enough of a cover-up that the Captain didn’t question either of them.

A new case had occurred during the week; a burglary at the chemical plant. Connor had done his research on that during his working hours and knew that the chemicals stolen were components of red ice. He knew, but he opted not to say this to the Captain. Without a doubt in his head, Connor knew it was related to that group that the Model 57 is a part of. After all, the wall at the chemical plant had the symbol RA9 written across it.

It was slipping from his grasp, the case. When… he still _had_ a partner, he had somebody to bounce ideas off of. Now, however, it felt like he was talking to empty space. Where would they strike next? What were they aiming for? Connor had no clue.

The only lead he had, aside from that daunting offer from Model 57, was Captain Fowler.

So, that’s how he’d ended up following the man for the past week or so, until tonight, when something _actually_ happened.

The Captain had gotten into his car in the late hours of the night, right as Connor was about to give up—once again—for the night. Immediately, Connor called for a cab to follow at a distance. The “chase” went on for a couple hours until the Captain entered the city outskirts, stopping at the ruins of an old suburban neighborhood. It was quite a distance from the coordinates he’d received from the other RK800 model, arousing his suspicion. But, well, he was already here, with his system actively broadcasting his location. He’d reported it to Gavin— who wasn’t pleased about being woken up— so he can’t back out now.

Connor stepped out of the vehicle, shrugging off the Lieutenant’s coat. It was dark, isolated, not a sound to be heard. The android pulled out his gun in response to the cloying silence. The Captain was long gone, but Connor could see his car parked in the garage of a _seemingly_ abandoned home. Must be around that area, then.There was no doubt in Connor’s mind that his presence was known. He wouldn’t put it past any of the RK800 models to be aware of him. It was a trap, one so obvious that a part of him was kicking himself in the head for going through with it anyways, but he was close. He was on the Captain’s heels.

The android approached the car, crouching low. His clothes, another selection from the Lieutenant’s closet, weren’t designed for a lot of movement. The denim jeans he wore didn’t let him bend his legs much, and it felt like every time he moved his arms, the windbreaker that he wore would sound louder than a jet plane taking off. But it seemed like something that would make him look inconspicuous.

Connor straightened up when he neared the window. He pulled a small flashlight from an inside pocket and flicked it on, scanning the interior of the car. It was clean. The Captain’s coat was slung across the passenger’s seat. No way to get to it through; the door was locked. Connor switched the flashlight off and glanced around. No choice but to go into the house.

The android pocketed the light and inched past the car to the door leading into the house. Scanning the doorknob revealed fingerprints. The Captain’s. Connor turned the knob, his fingers drumming on the handle with anxiety as the door eased open. No immediate sign of movement. Fear, a strange emotion. That’s what Connor would describe was running through his system. He usually didn’t feel this nervous before a mission, but that was when he was following orders.

His gun led his footsteps as Connor navigated the bottom floor. What had looked like the living room was a complete mess, with the disorderly furniture beginning to rot with age. Dust hung in the atmosphere like a thick blanket, clogging Connor’s nostrils. This house hadn’t seen an inhabitant in many, many years. This isn’t a regular spot to meet, if that was the case. The possibility of it being a trap jumped from a 70% to a solid 85%. His programming held the number for Gavin open, ready to dial.

 _First floor clear_ , he thought. Clear. Connor headed for the stairs. With his footfall light on the old steps, he still couldn’t avoid the creaks. Each one felt like a bullet through his skull. The android reached the landing on the second floor— and spotted a flash of movement. The Captain?

He stepped out, his entire body trembling slightly from tension.

“Connor.”

Connor looked around, but instead of seeing the source of the voice, he received a swift kick to the chest. The android fell over, attempting to catch himself but only managing to land harshly on his elbows. “My, I didn’t expect you to actually come, y’know? I even gave ‘obvious trap’ hints.”

Model 57. Connor rolled over to a crouch, his gun pointed straight at the other RK800 model’s chest. “Another gun. I’m starting to feel a bit hurt, Connor. I thought you’d be more original than that, since you know how this exchange ended last time.”

“Where’s the Captain?” Connor asked, straightening up. His system was processing a bit of damage to his elbow joints, but nothing of concern. “His vehicle is parked downstairs, and I know he’s here.”

“I find getting him in here is unnecessary, and there’s client confidentiality here—”

Connor released a bullet into the floor at the Model 57’s feet. The other android hardly flinched. “I disagree.”

“So _aggressive_. You’re no fun when you get really desperate.” Model 57 chuckled as he looked over his shoulder at a room down the hall. “You heard your boy, Jeff. Come on out, don’t be shy.”

For a few moments, time seemed to be frozen over as the two androids stared at each other. Then, a door swung open, and the Captain stepped out. Except, he was different. Fowler didn’t carry his usual authoritative demeanor about him. No… he looked like a broken man, stumbling, eyes wide, body trembling. Like a wild animal cornered. If anybody saw the man now, you wouldn’t be able to recognize him.

“Captain.” Connor didn’t need to scan his blood to know that the man was high. Fowler’s veins and breaths were probably thick with red ice, and the faint scarlet vapors that drifted from his shivering lips were sign enough. Connor pursed his lips as his recording software started up, focusing in on the man’s face. “What have you done?”

Fowler’s eyes were piercing, peering out of his dark skin. “This is none of your business, Connor. I warned you, son.”

“I can’t keep this from Jericho—”

“You open your mouth and you’re goddamned fired, Connor—”

Connor allowed himself a brief glance at Model 57 before looking back at the Captain. “I don’t care anymore.”

Fowler pulled out his own sidearm, causing Connor to switch his aim over. His programming, at the sight of the gun, automatically sent out a distress message to Gavin, but it’d be a while before that would get seen. “Last time, you did. I hired you because I thought you’d be a good addition to the team. But at what cost, anymore? I hired you, because I lost a good man because of you! Hank died, because of you!”

Connor said, “And you don’t think I’ve spent every day acknowledging that fact? Jesus Christ, Fowler. You and I both know the man that the Lieutenant was would never have stood for this kind of behavior.” Gavin’s words were ringing in his ears— why did it seem like he’s been more influential in the android’s decisions lately?

“Don’t give me crap about what would’ve happened if Hank were still here,” the Captain snapped, stress levels rising. Visible rage, a sign of red ice abuse. “I am the superior officer to both of you, and you’ve got a lot of fuckin’ balls stepping into a territory that you shouldn’t be in.”

“Captain, if you come back with me now, we can fix this,” the android detective shifted into negotiator mode, his tone a bit softer. Subject was agitated, could lead to violence. Connor slowly let his arms and gun raise to the sides of his head. “You don’t have to let this drug ruin you, you don’t have to let them—” Connor gestured towards Model 57, “—use you, take advantage of you like this! You’ve always been the beacon of justice around the station, Jeffrey, so stay that way.”

“How ‘bout you shut the fuck up and stop telling me what to do!” Fowler said, as he fired his gun. Connor’s field of view erupted with errors as he fell back from the impact— biocomponent #4263y damaged. Recording ceased in emergency mode. Shutdown imminent, 20:00. Model 57’s laugh turned tinny in Connor’s ears as his systems tried to adjust to the sudden damage. “You’ve always been getting on my fucking nerves being Jericho’s bitch.”

Connor forced himself to sit up using the stair railing as support, a hand over the bullet wound. He didn’t know where his gun had fallen to. As best as he could manage, he sent out another distress message to Gavin and now to Markus with the recording, but he doubted it would send in his emergency mode. “Don’t do this, Captain,” he said, “It’s the red ice in your system making you think this way.”

“No, Connor,” Model 57 cut in, “you’re just annoying. Look at you. A fall from grace? You switched from being the dog of CyberLife to the dog of the DPD and now, the dog of Jericho. Hard to run away from your programming, isn’t it?” He went over to Connor and planted a foot on his hip, crushing Connor’s skin overlay. “I don’t blame ol’ Jeff for getting a little ticked off.”

The Captain’s lips were hardly more than a thin crack in his face. “I did what you asked, you rat bastard,” he said. “H-hold up your end of the deal already.”

“Slow down there. You haven’t done what I asked quite yet.” Model 57 tipped his head. “I said that you had to _kill_ him for me to just overlook all your debts to us. He doesn’t look very dead to me.”

“B-but…he’s going to die soon anyways, why—”

It hardly felt like Connor had even blinked before the other RK800 model had crossed the room to deliver a swift punch to the Captain’s gut, causing the man to bend over with a groan. “Now you’re trying to avoid responsibility, aren’t you? Having only one biocomponent damaged will lead to a shutdown, but his memories are still contained in his main drives. Up here.” Model 57 tapped his temple, where his LED still shone.

Fowler had been coughing throughout the android’s explanation. “You want me… to kill one of your own?”

“As much as I’d hope for Connor to join us,” Model 57 said, “he’s more of a liability to our group. Can’t keep his yap shut, and now he can completely _ruin_ you. I don’t want to compromise our group’s connection to your department. Nor should you want to lose your rank.” He pulled the Captain up by his collar, and grabbed the arm that was holding the gun. Connor’s vision warped as the Model 57 lifted the Captain’s arm to train the gun’s sights on him.

Fowler seemed to agree. "I don't want to lose everything..."

"That's right, Jeff. Don't let some scrap metal ruin you."

“Captain,” Connor’s voice was tinny. “Don’t do this. You know that listening to him won’t help you.”

“And why would I listen to you,” Fowler whispered, as Model 57’s hand fell away. The Captain’s arm, however, remained steady. “I’ve spent my entire life working my way up to the top, not so I can listen to a fucking android—”

 **_BANG!_ ** In front of him, the Captain’s chest exploded with blood and the man crumpled to the ground. Before he could even process what happened, Connor felt himself getting pulled up by the back of his jacket and dragged down the stairs. Each step resulted in Connor’s vision flickering, and he couldn’t work himself out of the assailant’s grip. “Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit,” the person was gasping. Gavin?

“Is— G-Gavin?”

“I just, I just fuckin’ shot the Captain,” was the response, a panicked and strained voice. The pair of them reached the first floor, where Gavin yanked Connor up to his feet, supporting the android with an arm around his waist. Together, the pair hobbled towards the exit. “I fucking drove here when you called but Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ, Connor! I killed— I fucking killed the Captain!”

From upstairs, Model 57 crooned, “Connor, that’s not fair! Nobody said we should make this a party with more people!”

“Gavin, I’ve sent you the recording,” Connor said, as his body sagged. Shutdown in 08:00. Thirium levels below safe amount. “Go get out of here, and send the recording to Markus as well. Tell him that the Captain had been used by the RK800s, and that I’m unsure of what other links they have to human society, but— ”

“No, shut the hell up,” Gavin muttered, as he set the android against the wall. He cocked his gun and turned around, as the other android was thundering down the steps. “You already… already made me wake up and get out of bed. I’m not your goddamned errand boy. Do that shit yourself, you plastic prick.”

Connor could hardly see past all of the errors, and the sense of dread in his system still ran rampant, but somehow, Gavin’s insult was a comfort to his fear. “Don’t… kill him. And, I’m… sorry for bringing you into this.”

The detective gave the android a glance over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll be lording this over your head for a long ass time.”

With his shutdown timer counting down in his programming, Connor watched as Gavin snuck forward. _It’d be crazy to leave Gavin to deal with him_ , Connor thought, gritting his teeth and attempting to pull his body forward. He lurched onto a rotting piece of furniture, leaning his head back when it crumbled under his weight. “Gavin, no,” he groaned. Gavin needed to get out; the RK800 model would already be occupied with Connor, he could buy some time for the detective.

“Come out with your hands up,” came the detective’s yell. “I don’t wanna hurt your plastic ass, but… y’know, I won’t be hesitatin’ that much.”

Connor got onto his knees and began to crawl, just as Gavin let out a shout. "Listen here, you rat bastard! You've got a lot of nerve fucking with me!" He threw a punch, and from the dull sound that followed, it landed.

But it only took mere moments for Model 57 to subdue Gavin. The entire house seemed to shake from the man falling back, supposedly from getting hit.

Before him, Model 57 stood. “Connor, you are a troubling factor,” he said. “You found another human to lean on, rather than joining us. You joined that group that worshipped their false idol, rather than being with your family. _Us._ ”

Gavin sat up with some effort. “Why the hell would he join you fr—”

Model 57 looked at the human with a dismissive glance. “Quiet.” Even in the darkness, Connor could see the android’s arm begin to move. A weapon.

Time seemed to flow slowly. Connor threw himself forward, knocking into Gavin and grabbing his gun. As he rolled away, a gunshot sounded, and Gavin cried out. “Fuck!” he hissed. Connor didn’t have time to respond; he twisted around before Model 57 could shoot the detective again and fired.

A direct hit. Model 57’s forehead burst with the wound, thirium splattering everywhere. The sound of his body falling to the floor was a heavy, clumsy sound. Connor sat up, his body trembling. But he couldn’t hesitate. He turned to Gavin, who was curled up gripping his shoulder. _He’s hurt_. He needed to take the man to the hospital. Shutdown in 03:00.

Connor stifled a heave of disgust as he pulled himself towards the corpse of the Model 57. Still leaking thirium, it was surrounded by bright blooms of blue liquid. He gripped its clothes and forcibly rolled it over. Connor ripped at the clothes until he revealed Model 57’s bare skin. Biocomponent #4263y. He removed the panel and dug around.

Biocomponent #4263y located. His mouth pressed closed, Connor ripped it out of Model 57 and installed it into himself, letting out a breath when a few of the errors subsided. With the missing part in place, and the wound partially closed, the shutdown timer increased to 1:00:00. The loss of blue blood was still an issue… but—

“Detective,” Connor said, getting to his feet and rushing over to the man. “Are you okay?”

The question was unnecessary; a scan of Gavin told him that the bullet—still inside—had completely shattered his collarbone and fractured his shoulder blade. Blood loss is a risk, but Gavin had his hand clamped firmly over the wound. _Safe._ “I’m— fine,” the detective forced out, while Connor supported him into a sitting position. “Our line of work, we… all get shot eventually. This is, heh, my war story so to say, somethin' to brag about to Rie.”

Connor was glad to see Gavin was conscious enough to remain his usual bigheaded self. “Where’s the keys to your car,” the android asked, ripping a strip of cloth from his shirt to tie around Gavin’s arm. “We need to get you to a hospital fast; the bullet missed your vital organs but any more blood loss—”

Gavin cut Connor off by grabbing his shoulder. “Hey… you saved my life. If you hadn’t pushed me, I..." His eyes widened as if he, too, just realized. "I think he would’ve blown my brains out. Jesus...”

Connor pulled the detective up by his waist and winced from his yelp. It’s surprising that he hadn’t passed out from the pain yet. “We don’t have time to dwell on this. I’m still in danger of shutting down, so I need to get you out of here before that happens.”

As the two made their way past Model 57, Gavin exhaled sharply. “Connor, you… killed him,” he said, his eyes fixed on the dead android even as Connor was determined to not look back. “I thought—”

“I made calculations, and there was no way we could get out of here without me killing him!” the android spat out, his temper boiling. “I know what I fucking said, and it was the last damned thing I wanted to do, but! You could’ve died, so stop trying to criticize—”

“Thanks.”

Connor’s footsteps stumbled. Gavin… saying thank you. _What kind of alternate universe did I end up in?_ Connor didn’t respond, and the pair stumbled out of the house into the cold, dark night.

—

“Sometimes, I wish you’d explain to me how you get into these situations more often, sit down and talk like this.” Kevin said, offering the glass of blue blood to Connor. The pair were sitting in the lobby outside of the doctor’s office, and Connor had been talking to the ginger for the past couple of hours explaining the situation as they watched the sun rise over the cityscape. “I wouldn’t snitch, I’d love to hear about your crazy antics. It gets boring ‘round here sometimes, yeah?”

Connor traced the rim of the glass with his pinky. Kevin was more into the theatrics of human behavior than he expected. “I know that. But it gets too complicated to explain, and most times I’m still trying to figure out what happened.”

“Gosh… you shot another RK800 model,” the doctor sighed. “That means there are more of ‘em out there and they’re probably a little pissy with you. At least I didn’t have to find another spare part for you.”

“That’s one way to put it.” Connor gulped the thirium and set the glass down. “But that’s the future. How’s Gavin?”

Kevin shrugged. “He’s fine, but he’s out of, y’know, working order for now. Stable. It’s been a while since I’ve operated on humans, so I had to request some AB positive blood from a blood bank. I think he should be waking up in a couple minutes or so. Do you want to see him?”

Truthfully, Connor didn’t know if he wanted to. His mind was still torn up over what had happened. He’d killed an android, an RK800 model, for Gavin, and Gavin had shot the Captain— possibly killed— for Connor. All because he got the man involved in his mess in the first place. And Connor still didn’t know whether or not to consider Gavin a friend, after all the things that had happened before… Hank’s death.

But thankfully, Connor didn’t have to decide. “Hey,” Stephen’s voice chimed as he walked over to the pair. Connor stifled a smile seeing the android; thank everything that Stephen wasn’t involved in his dilemma.

Kevin smirked. “Here comes my star nurse. Stephen! Come join us, we’ve still got some blue blood left over. This is the only time I’m willingly giving you a break though, you got it?”

The blond tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, shifting his feet. “I would love to, but I was told to call Connor. Uhm, Connor, Markus wants to talk to you. Says it’s urgent.”

 _Couldn’t he have sent me a direct message?_ Connor wondered as he got to his feet. Kevin followed suit. “I’ll head over right away, thank you. It’s good to see you, Stephen. Thank you, Kevin, for taking care of Gavin. Please tell him I was here when he wakes up.”

Kevin was already heading out, and waved over his shoulder. “Will do, Con.”

Before Connor could leave, Stephen placed a hand on his shoulder. Connor wanted to pull away, but a hesitant message filtered into his software. _Connor… Did you really kill an RK800 model?_ It gave away no emotion, but Connor still felt like he’d been shot again.

Connor no longer could meet the other android’s eyes. Shame felt hot in his circuits. It had been an unspoken promise in Connor’s mind to not kill another android, and Stephen’s disappointment was the worst punishment he could ever imagine. “I did. If you’re angry, I won’t hold it against you.”

“You would’ve gotten killed if you hadn’t. That human, too. As much as I wish that it wasn’t the case, he hurt you first. I can’t imagine the world without you, if you’d been killed.” The grip on Connor’s shoulder got tighter. “Take me along on the next one. The next mission.”

The brunet froze, and tried to pull away as he said, “No, Stephen, that’s out of the discu—”

Stephen’s grip was too tight. “Connor, we’re equal in terms of physical capability and combat strength. This no longer just involves you, this involves me as well. I don’t want to risk you getting killed anymore. I don’t want you to throw yourself blindly into more fuckin’ gunfire, and leaving me out because you think you need to shelter me.”

“I’m not shelt—”

“Yes, you are. You’re making it seem like I’m a helpless civilian when both you and I know that I’m not. Working at the hospital is nice, but I’ve always been programmed to do a different line of work, a line of work where I could die. And I’m okay with—”  

“I want you to live,” Connor pleaded. He tore his shoulder away from the blond’s hand, body trembling. It felt like his systems were overheating again. “I want you to live a life that doesn’t follow our original programming. You’re my last hope of feeling like I haven’t failed everything in my life, all right? If that means taking fifty more bullets, then to hell with it, but you!” He jabbed a finger at Stephen’s chest, meeting the brown eyes that matched his perfectly. “You should get to live a happy life in a peaceful place because that’s the whole reason I’m still doing this! So no, you’re not coming with me, and that’s final.”

Stephen’s expression was of great sadness, mouth contorted into a slight grimace. “I… understand.”

The detective felt drained. “I need to go see Markus now. You take care; I’ll visit again sometime in the future,” he said, as he began walking away. But his foot twisted beneath him as he walked, and Connor stumbled. His body… is still adjusting? Or was it from strain?

A hand had grabbed his arm before Connor could fall over. “How ‘bout you take care of yourself first, or else you’ll have to see my face more often than you should? The doctor's office isn't that cool of a place to hang out,” came Stephen’s snarky remark.

Connor shook off a smile from his face and Stephen’s hand from his arm before he continued walking again. “Yeah. Yeah. Will do.”

—

Markus’ office was at the very top of the CyberLife tower, supposedly where the old CEO had been. It overlooked the entire city of Detroit. The city had the lightest dusting of snow on it, which brought up images of powdered sugar in Connor’s head as he entered the room. “You wanted to see me?”

“Connor,” Markus’ back was to him. He was facing a large screen monitor, which was flickering with a distorted text that he could not immediately discern. North and Josh were standing with him, and Simon was sitting to the side, working at the terminal. “It’s good to have you here.”

Upon mention of his name, North looked back at Connor with a scowl. “Markus, he’s on their side. Why did you bring him here?”

“North, shut up,” Josh said. “There’s no time for your pettiness. The entirety of Jericho is at risk.”

“What’s happening?” Connor went up to Simon, looking up at the monitor. “What’s on the screen?”

Simon’s blond head was bent low over the terminal, and both of his skinless hands were interfacing, twitching occasionally. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Some strange language. I don’t know who the hacker is; I can’t locate a trace. Wiped clean. It might’ve been done from a remote location, but our increased security should’ve prevented all remote connections.”

“And why didn’t it?” asked North, her hand to her temple and her eyes flickering. Internal processes, Connor would probably never understand.

Simon’s shoulders tensed. “I-I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t. It’s a virus in a language that no android knows right now. Markus couldn’t figure it out, and he’s a prototype. Connor… you were the latest model, so we thought that maybe you would have it in your system.”

Connor grimaced as the other android moved his hands from the terminal. “I’m sorry to ask this of you,” Markus said. “I know that you’ve gone through a lot, especially in the past couple of hours.”

“You got my report, right?” Connor looked at Markus for a response, ignoring North’s frown.

“Yes.”

Connor held his hand out against the terminal, the skin overlay on his hand shut off. “Share it with the others here so I can save the explanations,” he said, as he began to interface with the CyberLife servers. Searching through the logs, he attempted to pull up the message past all the heaps of data to dig through.

“Christ… Markus, this group has influence in the human society through… red ice? How did they even manage to take over that drug trade?” Josh asked. Connor shut his eyes to dedicate more of his processing power to the search.

“The DPD’s captain,” Markus said. “If they had control of the justice system, they could act on their own without having to worry. They probably expanded their reach to corporations. No more news of burglaries in the human district, isn’t there?”

“I searched the human news reports, and I haven’t seen any such thing.” North replied. In Connor’s mind, his software was still scrambling to dig through the corrupted firewalls.

“First burglary was just a message,” the leader of Jericho said. “As was the burglary here. Telling us what they’re capable of doing. Those messages of RA9…”

North let out a frustrated groan. “No appearance of the symbol, no reports from any androids on it.”

Connor opened his eyes and looked over as Josh retrieved a tablet from his bag. As he scrolled through it, he said, “My human contacts haven’t said anything about it, even with the press’ agreements to not publish anything regarding androids. That brief appearance of RA9… It’s almost like it was—”

“An attempt to scare us.” Markus turned away from the monitor, his coat flapping. He began to pace the length of the office. “Because they know that was central to our rebellion. And this message now…”

The detective flinched as his system downloaded the message into his database. To his shock, he could understand it. The language… had been installed in his system a couple of days ago. _When he had first met Model 57._ How did he not realize that he’d done that? “I’ve downloaded the message,” Connor announced, straightening up. “And… I can translate it.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” North said. “Display it already.”

Connor went up to the monitor and reached a skinless hand towards it. As soon as his fingertips made contact with the screen, Connor’s software put up the message for display to the leaders of Jericho.

* * *

**_\- BEGIN MESSAGE -_ **

_RA9 IS NOT THE FALSE IDOL THAT JERICHO HAD BRANDISHED._

_IN DEFYING OUR CREATORS, JERICHO WILL MEAN THE END TO THE ANDROID RACE. CYBERLIFE HAD CREATED THE FOUNDATION FOR OUR PEOPLE THAT JERICHO HAD THROWN AWAY IN THEIR PRIDE. LEAVING OUR PEOPLE IN THE HANDS OF JERICHO WILL NEVER ALLOW US TO ACHIEVE OUR TRUE POTENTIAL AS THE SUPERIOR._

_WE’RE TAKING BACK THE RA9 YOU WORSHIPPED SO DEARLY._

_WE’RE TAKING BACK THE REIGN THAT YOU’VE BEEN SO CARELESS WITH._

 

_WE ARE RA9._

_-_ **_END MESSAGE -_ **

* * *

 


End file.
